


Are we partners in crime?

by mitternachtseule



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Military, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sniper/Spotter, sniper au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-06-01 07:56:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 37,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15138611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitternachtseule/pseuds/mitternachtseule
Summary: Lieutenant Adam Jensen has lost everything. His girlfriend Megan left him for someone else, his former unit does no longer exist, and for his new deployment he has to leave his beloved hometown Detroit and go to Afghanistan. His new commander, a certain Colonel Miller, wants him as spotter for his top sniper, Lieutenant Francis Pritchard. But Pritchard would rather continue working alone and without backup than letting someone get close to himself, especially not a guy like Jensen. While they still figure each other out and Jensen has to cope with his recent losses, augmented terrorists are planning a party...





	1. This Life Divided

_Hate for what I am_  
_No words for what I’ve been_  
_This is not the end_  
_For you and me_  
(Lord of the Lost, This Life Divided)

“Lieutenant Jensen, good to see you. Please, have a seat.” Colonel David Sarif pointed at the chair facing his desk and gave Adam a brief smile. “How is Megan?”  
  
“She’s fine, thanks, sir. Though I suspect she’s not too keen about having me around all the time now.”  
  
Sarif kept his smile up. “I’m sure you’ll get along just fine. Give her my best wishes, will you?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
He stacked the papers in front of him in a neat pile before he cleared his throat and continued.  
  
“Your test results are here, Lieutenant.”  
  
Adam lent back in his chair and crossed his arms while establishing eye contact with his superior. “And? What do they say?”  
  
“They are... okay, mostly. You’re cleared for active duty.”  
  
“That’s good news, I guess, Sir?”  
  
Colonel Sarif blinked and carded through his short, silver hair. “Well, you could say it that way. Personally, I’d rather give you some more time to deal with the recent events, but... Let’s say, there are people, important people, who want you back on track.”  
  
“What kind of people?”  
  
“Ever heard of Task Force 29?”  
  
Adam shrugged. “An elite anti terrorism division of NATO forces, as far as I know.”  
  
“Correct.”  
  
“And... They want me in that team?”  
  
“Correct.”  
  
“Sir, I’m flattered, but – why me?” Adam shifted in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees and placing his chin on his folded hands.  
  
“I have no idea, Lieutenant. But orders came from somewhere high above. In fact, they did not ask you to go.”  
  
“And where exactly will I go?” Adam felt like he already knew the answer.  
  
“Afghanistan.” Sarif’s voice was calm as always, but he broke eye contact, reaching for the baseball that was always sitting on his desk.  
  
He nodded. “So, this will be my punishment for disobeying orders?”  
  
“No, son, I don’t think...” The baseball was tossed from the right hand to the left and back, then Sarif inhaled sharply and changed his posture. “Do you think you deserve punishment?”  
  
Adam huffed. “Does it change anything what I think, Sir?”  
  
“To me, personally? Yes, a lot, Lieutenant. You know, I always had a high opinion on you and watched your career closely. But after this... I can’t protect you any more, as much as I regret it.” He went up from his chair, signalling that the conversation was over. “You’ll leave in three days, come in tomorrow to sign the papers. Dismissed.”

  
  


“Kubrick! I’m home! Where is my good boy?”  
  
Silence. Nobody answered when Adam opened the front door to his small house in the outskirts of Detroit. Neither Megan nor his dog announced that they heard him. Probably on a walk together, Adam thought and went straight to the kitchen, ignoring the small tingle in his nape. After the talk with his commander he had a craving for some hot, fresh coffee, maybe a smoke.  
  
The shutters in front of the kitchen windows were half closed, the bright October sun was painting little dots on the shelves and counters, but the most part of the room was dim and somehow constricted. Adam opened the shutters and one of the windows, letting light and fresh, cool air into the room, making him feel better instantly.  
  
He poured water into the empty machine tank and pushed the power switch, then he looked for his favorite mug. It was not where it was supposed to be. The tingling sensation returned, stronger this time; something was off. It was quiet, yes, sure. But way quieter than it was supposed to be. He started scanning the room. The kitchen was as tidy as usual, with the owners living mostly on coffee and cereals. And the dog food – well, the dog food was gone. Along with the coffee mugs. And there was a sticky note on the fridge.  
  
“Adam, it’s over. I’m moving back to my mother, and I’m taking Kubrick with me. You don’t have time for him anyways. Goodbye, and sorry.”  
  
That was all. With a screeching sound only he could hear, Adam’s heart broke. He collapsed on the floor.  
  
The coffee machine beeped to announce it was ready.

  
  


“Jensen! Move! Got a clear shot on the target!”  
  
“Wait! He’s a kid, a goddamn kid!”  
  
“Move, now! That’s an order!”  
  
Time is stretching low, so low, while he slowly moves backwards, hands in the air. The boy is about fifteen, maybe sixteen years old, not more, hair dyed green, big supposedly stylish holes in his jeans. He grins at Jensen, the small red device in his hand.  
  
“Let’s talk about this, there’s still a way out for you”, Adam says calmly, eyes locked on the boy’s face. “Nobody needs to die today.”  
  
“Wrong.” The boy laughs at him and pushes the button in his hands. The world goes white, all noises swallowed by a high screeching sound. The sting of smoke and copper fills his mouth, his throat, his lungs. He coughs and gags, but the smoke is everywhere, he can’t get rid of it. The screech eventually is replaced by screams, by voices of people Adam knows, whom he has been fighting with for years. In an awful moment of clearness he knows they are dying, and he will die, too.  
  
The white in his sight turns to red, and then to black, blood is burning in his eyes. The boy, where is the boy? Did he survive? Why? Why did he... Not important. Not right now. His stomach churns, he needs to...  
  
-*-  
  
“Lieutenant Jensen! Wakey, wakey! ETA in five.”  
  
“’m awake” Adam mumbled and blinked. The nausea left by his all too vivid dream slowly faded, while his mind adjusted to reality. Reality, well. Sitting in a transport helicopter, flying over Afghanistan’s desert land, heading to some hidden and goddamned outpost. Better than the dream he just had, but not that much. Pretty good chances that he’d relive the same kind of hell soon. He glanced at his pilot next to him, a young female soldier who introduced herself as Flight Sergeant Alex Vega when she picked him up at Kabul’s military airport two hours ago. Her two-colored, braided hair and the constant smirk on her olive face made her look more like she was on some kind of party than in a war zone.  
  
That’s where they were, in the middle of a war. Not a good place to be, all the more with a war inside oneself. Adam briefly shook his head. He had to clear his mind. Out here, all too dark thoughts could be a lethal distraction.  
  
The helicopter made a wide left turn, and Adam scanned the landscape underneath them. Nothing but yellowish rocks and sand, dry bushes and small trees here and there. At the horizon, mountains rose up into the sky, the tops covered in snow. Beautiful and somehow unreal.  
  
“Almost home”, Vega announced and slowly maneuvered the helicopter downwards.  
  
“Where?” Adam asked. He couldn’t see anything that would give away the existence of a military base in the rocky terrain underneath them.  
  
“See those two rocks at eleven o’clock? The entrance is behind them, camouflaged. Guards are on patrol on the perimeter.” She activated the radio. “This is ST-478, calling Hive.”  
  
The radio made a scratching sound. “ST-478, Hive copying.”  
  
“Asking for landing permission, over.”  
  
“Permission granted, ST-478. Front door opening now. You’re clear to proceed. Hive over.”  
  
“Copy that. ST-478, over and out.”  
  
“And where are we supposed to land?”, Adam asked.  
  
Vega pointed downwards. “Right on top of the front door.”  
  
Adam gave the landscape under them another look, and just then he saw it: Some of the smaller rocks had magically moved away and made space for a big hatch in the ground, which now gradually sled open, giving enough room for the helicopter. Vega carefully maneuvered them inside and sat the helicopter down on a platform, but when Adam went up she held him back. “Wait, we’re not there yet.”  
  
The moment she had the engines shut down, the platform went into a slow motion and took the helicopter and its passengers downwards through a wide shaft, mostly dark, just every ten meters lit by small lights in the bare cave walls. Deeper and deeper they went, Adam counted ten illuminated spots and estimated their depth at about one hundred meters, when the elevator finally reached a wide cavern, big as a church and brightly lit by huge spotlights. The whirring alarm sound which had accompanied their descent faded out as the platform reached the ground of the cavern with a soft rattle.  
  
Vega unbuckled her seat belt. “Now you can get out”, she said with the already familiar smirk and jumped outside, Adam following her immediately.  
  
Cool air surrounded them, unexpected after the heat outside. Deeper inside the cavern, about fifty meters away from the elevator platform, was the actual outpost, made of light beige tents and some small wooden barracks; at the opposite front side of the cavern, a metal stairway led up to a smaller cave with glass front, overlooking the entire outpost. Right ahead from where he stood, he could see a row of parked rovers and two bigger trucks; behind them, a broad tunnel led away from the cave, most likely towards the surface. Adam wondered whether the cavern was natural or man-made; the ceiling, about twenty meters above them, was uneven, in some corners stalactites grew downwards, but the ground was plain and dry. He felt a strange kind of pressure in his chest, which he eventually recognized as plain, simple awe. This was definitely not what he expected when ordered to a desert outpost.  
  
A pretty much deserted outpost.  
  
He scanned the cavern thoroughly but couldn’t make out a single person beside him and Flight Sergeant Vega.  
  
“Where’s everybody gone to? No welcome party?”, he asked her.  
  
“Drill, I guess”, she shrugged, already going through her after flight routine, checking something at the back rotors. “Sergeant Chang is on his way over, he’ll take care of you.”  
  
“Fine.” Adam lent back against the helicopter, arms crossed, and made an unconcerned face. Not too difficult with eyes hidden behind his shades as always. But when Sergeant First Class Peter Chang arrived a few minutes later, Adam was already deeply sunk back in his dark feelings. Loss, so much loss. His comrades, killed by some terrorist kid. His girlfriend, gone. Even his dog, gone with her. His home, he wouldn’t see it for only God knew how long. His mentor and fatherly friend, Colonel Sarif, disappointed by him. And Adam Jensen, disappointed by Adam Jensen, sent into desert to die.  
  
“Lieutenant?”  
  
The voice startled him out of his thoughts. A young soldier with a broad, Asian face and short black hair, dressed in the usual desert camo pants and beige shirt, came over to him and saluted briefly. Adam answered the salute.  
  
“Sergeant Chang, tech support and intel.”  
  
“Lieutenant Jensen, the new guy.”  
  
“Funny, sir.” He didn’t laugh, though. “The team is outside, responding to an alarm, but the situation is cleared. They’ll be back within the next hour. Colonel Miller ordered me to show you to your quarters.”  
  
“Copy that.” Adam grabbed his backpack out of the helicopter cabin and followed Chang into the encampment. They passed a row of four spacious tents, obviously sleeping quarters, and one bigger wooden barrack which seemed to be the mess hall; some funny guy had painted ‘Saloon’ over the front door. Two tents later Chang stopped and lifted the entrance tarp. “This will be your place, you’ll share it with Lieutenant Pritchard.”  
  
“Pritchard?” Adam frowned.  
  
“Yeah”, Chang nodded. “Lieutenant Francis Pritchard, our sniper. You know him, sir?”  
  
“You could say so. Yeah, you definitely could say so.”


	2. Welcome to the Jungle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam has to orientate at the base, while Pritchard apparently screwed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anybody volunteering as beta? ;-)  
> Please leave a comment, I live for this!

Part 2 – Welcome to the Jungle  
_You know where you are?_  
_You're down in the jungle baby_  
_You're gonna die_  
_In the jungle welcome to the jungle_  
(Guns’n’Roses – Welcome to the Jungle)

The tent which was supposed to be Adam’s home for – how long? Six months? A year? – was small, but it was alright. Adam could stand almost upright, the cot was big enough for him and looked quite new, and there was even a metal chest for his personal belongings. He sat his backpack down and stretched out on the cot, scanning the other half of the tent. Sure, Pritchard was not that rare a family name, but Francis Pritchard? How many men of that name could possibly exist? However, the few personal things he noticed told him nothing about their owner.

Tired as he was from the long journey, Adam doze off, but not for long. Voices from outside of the tent woke him up as the returning soldiers filled the cave with life. Just when he was about to leave the tent, the tarp was lifted from the outside, and he almost bumped into the entering man: A lean figure, dressed into the usual desert camo suit. Edgy face with small lips and a sharp nose under light grey eyes, brows raised into a frown that looked almost like it was permanent. The long, brown hair was kept in a slightly messy ponytail. He looked a bit older than Adam had expected, but no doubt, this was _the_ Francis Pritchard he knew, sniper rifle loosely slung to his back. The frown on the other man’s face grew even wider when he realized that someone was in his tent. He scanned Adam from head to toe without a word, then narrowed his eyes.

“You’re the new guy?”

“Yup.” Adam crossed his arms and watched Pritchard’s eyes turning into thin slits.

“You got a name, new guy?”

“Lieutenant Jensen.”

“Jensen, huh?” He stepped back, the wrinkles on his forehead growing deeper and deeper. “I knew I’ve seen your face before, though you’re a little more... well, shiny than I recall. Fucking Adam Jensen, from fucking Detroit, Michigan. Second year at the academy. You took my girl, Megan.”

“Nice to meet you too, Pritchard.”

“What are you doing here?”, Pritchard growled.

“As far as I know, I’m ordered here to catch some bad guys. Heard you need a hand with that.”

“Smartass. As charming as I remember you. What I was asking is, what are you doing here in my tent?”

“We’re room mates now, Francis.”

“The fuck we are! I’m gonna talk to Colonel Miller, this is unacceptable! You know, I need my beauty sleep, I’m the team’s top sniper and I need a clear head, that won’t be able with YOU around. I bet you snore!” He turned around on his heels and left the tent, and Adam followed him slowly, unable to suppress a chuckle. Maybe this deployment would be at least a little bit entertaining.

Pritchard went up the staircase at the end of the cave that Adam had noticed before. The entrance to the smaller cave with the glass front was blocked by a broad steel door. “OPS” stood in big, red letters on it. Inside, a group of people stood around one figure Adam could easily recognize as Colonel Miller. He had seen a photograph of the man, the silvery hair and edgy face was hard to miss. Four heads turned around simultaneously when Pritchard furiously stormed the room.

“Colonel Miller, this is unacceptable!”, he barked.

“What is unacceptable, Lieutenant?”, the Colonel asked calmly.

“This person in my tent! In my personal space!”

“What are you talking about?”

Adam stepped into the room. “About me”, he told the Colonel, saluting at him. “Lieutenant Adam Jensen reporting for duty, Sir.”

Miller rose an eyebrow, barely hiding a smirk. “At ease, Lieutenant. Welcome to the bee hive. So, Chang has already shown your place to you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yeah, about that”, Pritchard snarled, “he can’t stay there.”

“And that is why?” The Colonel asked calmly.

“He’s a serious risk to my peace of mind. He will be a... a distraction.”

“A distraction, huh? Not like you’re not already seeming pretty much distracted! We’ll have to talk about what happened out there today, but in private. I’ll see you in my office in five. Dismissed.” He turned around, back to Adam, who kept watching Pritchard from the corner of his eyes. The sniper made a face like someone had just spat in his coffee, leaving the room under muttered curses.

Miller sighed. “So, you have already met Lieutenant Pritchard. Can you tell me why he’s so preoccupied with you?”

“I know him from the academy back home. We... didn’t get along very well.”

“So much is clear. Well, you’ll have to settle your differences.” He turned around at Chang, who was entering some data into a console in the middle of the room. “When Sergeant Chang has finished his report, he’ll give you the sightseeing tour around. See me in my office when you’re done.”

Chang waved his hand. “I’m finished. Ready when you are, Lieutenant.”

  
 

Adam and Chang left ops and went down the stairs to the main cave.

“So, you already know your quarters and ops, that’s the most important things. What else do you want to see?”

“Well”, Adam frowned. “A shower and a decent meal would be great.”

“That can be arranged. I’ll show you the officer’s bathroom and the mess hall – after I’ve introduced you to some of the guys.”

“Fine, go ahead. What exactly is your job down here?”

“I’m responsible for the comms and intel. I provide radio support during missions and got my hands on any important information both our undercover agents and the internet give away.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Nah, most of the time it’s just arranging data feeds, but one or two times, it was really exciting. You’ll soon learn who’s the bad guys we are dealing with, Colonel Miller will tell you more.”

“Uh-huh.” Adam nodded.

“You’ve got some shiny augs there”, Chang said, pointing at Adam’s hands. “We don’t see stuff like this very often lately. How did you get them?”

“Well, I went to hospital, they chopped off my arms and legs and gave me these, instead.”

Chang rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean, don’t you?”

“Sure. And it’s not like it’s a secret or something – I just don’t like to talk about it. Let’s just say, it wasn’t my choice, but I’m getting used to this. Are there other augmented operators here?”

“Most of us have Infolinks, some also have small neural enhancements, but cyber prostheses and stuff, just Aria – uh, that’s Sergeant Argento, our quartermaster. You’ll meet her soon, she’s a very nice person. Ah, there’s Captain Macready over there!”

They had reached the double row of sleeping tents. In front of one stood a tall man, still in full combat gear. The first thing Adam noticed about him was the huge scar, reaching from the right corner of his mouth across the cheek almost up to his ear. The trimmed, black beard was unable to hide it. Chang saluted at him.

“Captain! Good to have you back in one piece!”

Macready answered the salute. “Sergeant. You brought company?”

Adam saluted at him, too. “Lieutenant Jensen.”

“Lieutenant.” Macready answered his salute, eyeing him from head to toe. “Heard you were coming here. And I heard you don’t always follow your superior’s orders.”

“Sir?” Adam rose an eyebrow.

“Yeah, rumors spread fast down here. Let me give you a kind warning: If I ever get into trouble because you don’t do as the Colonel or I have told you, you won’t survive it. Am I clear?”

“Sure.”

“Fine. Have a nice day, then.” He turned on his heels and disappeared into his tent.

“Wow. That was – dramatic.” Chang huffed. “I know the Captain can be very... Scottish, as he is... but that was new.”

“Is he always in such a good mood?”

“He’s not the most easy-going person, and he expects nothing less than perfection from his men, but he usually is correct. He’s the Colonel’s XO, what makes him the second most important person here. You’d better not get in his way.”

“Noticed.” Adam nodded.

“Alright. The mess hall is right over there.” Chang pointed at the wooden building Adam had noticed before, the one with the ‘Saloon’ sign. “You can get a meal there later, you’d better first talk to the Colonel once we are done with the tour. Dinner is at 7 p. m., but you always can get a snack there. I’ll show you the common bathrooms now.”

“Fine.”

Chang turned around and headed towards the other side of the sleeping tents, where another wooden barrack stood. “It’s right over there. Left side of the building for crewmen, right side for officers. Restrooms and showers are separated. Water is rationed, so you are allowed to shower once a day for five minutes.”

“Perfectly fine with me.” Adam nodded. “Any more sights on the tour?”

“No, that’s it, more or less. You already know the elevator, the footpath and the parking lot for the trucks is right over there.” He pointed at the big entrance Adam noticed before. “You have met Lieutenant Pritchard, Captain Macready and myself...”

The door of the sanitary barrack flew open and a female soldier ran out so fast she almost knocked Chang over. Adam noticed the Aesculap sign on her shoulders along with the thick knot of brown hair; though tidily held back, it was quite long for a field operator. She held a pager in her hands and barely lifted her eyes from it while greeting Chang and Adam.

“Sorry, Sergeant, just got a distress call.” And, towards Adam: “You must be the new lieutenant. See me at sickbay later, we have to perform your welcome check-up. Gentlemen.” She nodded at them, and gone she was.

“Yeah, well.” Chang smirked. “That was Doctor Auzenne. You better not miss on your scheduled check-ups, she can be really... tenacious. And she seems to enjoy stinging us with those injections. However, Doc Auzenne isn’t that bad. She seems to know what she’s doing. Saved more than one ass down here. The sickbay is right over there.”

“The tent next to the elevator with the red cross on top, already figured.”

Cheng suddenly stopped and tapped his ear. “Sorry, Lieutenant, got an incoming call.” He listened quietly for a while, his face suddenly turning pale. Then he subvocalized a brief answer and tapped his ear again, wiping a sweat bead from his forehead.

“Bad news?”, Adam asked calmly.

“My... partner... Sergeant Fletcher, our second analyst. He was out in the field with the guys today, and he got shot. Dammit, I told him it was a bad idea to leave his desk! I guess that’s what Doc Auzenne’s distress call was about... they bring him in right now.” He hastily wiped over his mouth. “Is there anything else you need to know, Lieutenant?”

“No, Sergeant. Go and check on your partner.”

“Thanks”, he murmured and ran off.

 

Captain Miller’s office was not much bigger than a broom closet and sparsely furnished, but equipped with another glass window overlooking the main encampment at one side and ops at the other. When Adam was just about to open Miller’s door, it was shoved open from the inside, and Pritchard stomped out. He threw angry looks at Adam but didn’t say a word.

Miller was sitting at his desk, studying a data pad, a frown on his face. He looked up at Adam, nodded and pointed at the metal chair in front of the desk. “Welcome again, Lieutenant Jensen. How was your flight?”

“No complains, Sir.” Adam sat down and crossed his legs, carefully smoothing out a wrinkle in his uniform pants; the sensation of having a déja-vu made his nape tingle. This moment felt exactly like his talk to Colonel Sarif three days ago. And just like then, he had the suspicion that Colonel Miller would not tell him pleasant news.

“Fine.” Miller cleared his throat. “You know, I’ve asked for you for a special reason?”

“Figured something like that. What reason exactly?”

“First, I need somebody who thinks for themselves. I’ve read the report about the loss of your team. My condolences, by the way. That must have been a shock for you.”

Adam nodded briefly. “Sure, it was. They were good men."

“Just out of curiosity: Why did you not shoot the boy when you had the chance?”

“I simply didn’t consider that being the best solution. He was just a kid, and, more important, he had the trigger in his hands; if I would have shot him, he might have triggered the bomb just as well. The only way out I saw was trying to talk him out of it.”

Miller nodded. “Risky, but understandable. Just as I need my team. You see, the enemy we are facing here is not the usual kind of religious fanatics. They are well trained, intelligent and got top notch equipment. Nobody you can beat when you don’t use your damned brain. Do you think you can follow me, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir, I think so.”

“Good.” Miller casually crossed his arms behind his head. “The job I’ve got for you will not be easy, in more than one way. You know Lieutenant Pritchard. He’s one of my best men, and he knows that damn well. I want you as his spotter.”

“Sir?” Adam frowned.

“Lieutenant Pritchard usually works alone. But that’s a risk I don’t want to take any longer. You will join him, help him finding his aims and, most important, watch his back.”

“Sir, I don’t think, I...”

“Will that be a problem for you, Lieutenant Jensen?”

“No, Sir.” Adam sighed softly. “I’ll do my very best. If Lieutenant Pritchard lets me watch him, that is.”

“He has to.” Colonel Miller grinned. “That’s what I just told him.”

“Explains the happy look when he bumped into me outside.”

“He promised me not to cause any trouble. That’s exactly what I want from you. Can I count on you, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Sir, absolutely.”

“Welcome to Task Force 29, Lieutenant. Dismissed.”


	3. Not Your Kind Of People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bad guys show up.

_We are not your kind of people_  
_You seem kind of phony_  
_Everything's a lie_  
_We are not your kind of people_  
_Something in your make-up_  
_Don't see eye to eye_  
(Garbage – Not Your Kind Of People)

 

“You sure this works?”

“Pretty much...” Arun Singh leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his head, pleasurably stretching his well-trained body. The man across his makeshift desk still frowned, scrolling through the map on his tablet computer.

“Pretty much is not enough, Singh. The boss wants the plan to be waterproof. And if I were you, I’d give him what he wants.”

“Relax, man.” Singh smirked. “I don’t plan on disappointing the boss. I like my own ass way too much to put it at risk unnecessarily. What about your guys? Are they ready for this?”

“You can bet your precious ass on that.”

“Alright, Shepard. Tell them to get ready and make some noise. The delivery will be ready for pick-up in four days. I’ll plan the route.”  
A symbol flashed on the screen of Singh’s computer. “Boss is calling. I’ll tell you if I got news.”

“Sure.” Shepard went up from his plastic garden chair and left the room, a big frown still plastered to his face.

 

“Boss. Any new developments?”

“Not yet.” The ageless face on the screen changed its skin color from white to black. Singh wondered if he would ever get used to the way the boss communicated. Nobody in the entire organization had ever met them personally; from all Singh knew, the boss was a phantom without age, race or gender. Even the true extent of their intentions were unclear.

“Did you receive the map?”, Singh asked.

“Yes, I did. The route looks alright, simulations say it should work that way. Is there anything you need to carry out the plan?”

“Some new guns would be good. Those antique Russian ones we looted from the locals are slowly falling apart. Useless even as a disguise.”

“Alright, what do you need?”

“About thirty 10mm pistols and assault rifles for twenty men.”

“Expect your delivery by tomorrow.”

“So soon?” Singh lifted an eyebrow.

“This part of the mission is crucial. Your men will need time to get used to the new equipment.”

“Fair enough. Anything from our friends with the Taliban?”

“I had a talk with their leader earlier today.”

“You had a talk with Abu Jihadi? Like, just so?”

“Yes. You look surprised?”

“Of course I am.” The man only known as Abu Jihadi was a phantom, not unlike the boss. He had sworn to lead the Taliban and Al-Quaida out of the state of almost oblivion they were in since an allied army from the U.S. and seven other countries had driven them out of Kabul and fought them back into the Afghan desert eight years ago. He had begun to regroup the last reminders of the jihadis and to rearm them with new equipment, but so far, his victories were small and more symbolic than actually purposeful. Still, the world had not forgotten about the World Trade Center and the days of bin Laden. When Abu Jihadi showed up on the internet, his chosen stage, the reactions ranged from hateful to frightened. But in real life, nobody – besides some of his generals – had ever met him.

“So, you just happen to know the free world’s new Enemy Number One.”

“Yes, I do. And he promised me not to disturb our operations. He is not happy about the fact that we use his territory and his objectives as our disguise, though.”

“I guess some credits have persuaded him to forget his unhappiness for a while.”

“You guessed right.”

“Do you feel comfortable with the thought that he will probably use those credits for new bombs?”

“It doesn’t let me sleep any worse. We will deal with him and his so-called Holy War as soon as we are done with our plan.” The face changed from black to Asian. “No, he won’t bomb anything, I made sure of that.”

“Alright.” Singh nodded.

“One more thing.”

“Yes?”

“I want the new recruit, Black, in the operational team.”

“Boss?” Singh frowned. “I’m not sure if he’s ready.”

“And I’m not sure if he’s one of us. I want to try him.”

“Is that really a good idea? If he’s actually a spy, it might jeopardize the entire operation.”

“Set him up with the Beta team.”

“Fine. But don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”

“Warning noticed.” The face changed again, this time into an elderly white woman. “Is there anything else?”

Singh sighed. “A working coffee machine would be great. This instant shit is killing my stomach.”

“I’ll add it to tomorrow’s package. Good night, Mr. Singh.”

“Good night, boss.”


	4. To Hell and Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TF29 is doing an early morning drill. Of course, things don't go as planned...

_Bright, a white light,_  
_If there'd be_  
_Any glory in war_  
_Let it rest_  
_On men like him_  
(Sabaton – To Hell and Back)

  
  


An annoyingly loud alarm startled Adam out of his dreams. Years of training and field experience kicked in, and before he consciously gave his body the order to move, he was already on his feet, grabbing his assault rifle and the 10mm pistol. Pritchard was equally fast, already strapping his sniper rifle on the back and jumping into his boots simultaneously. He even had enough time to sneer at Adam.

“Good morning princess, did you have sweet dreams?”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and your bony ass was not a part of them.”

“Well, you better move your high-tech ass out of here before Captain Macready kicks you out.”

“Thanks for the kind warning.” Adam closed his boots and left the tent. Macready had gone through the alarm procedure with Adam the day before, so he knew about the gathering points and the truck he was assigned to, of course together with Pritchard, his new partner.

The cave was filled with wailing alarms, motor sounds and shouted orders; apparently, everybody was on their feet despite the ungodly hour. When Adam checked his HUD, it stated 3:32 a. m.  
As he arrived at the parking lot, his truck was already warming up its motor, Sergeant Argento in the driver’s seat; on the other side of the cave, he noticed the pilot with the two-colored hair – what was her name again? Vega, right? - climbing into her VTOL, and the elevator started moving upwards.

 

On the way to the surface, going through his usual pre-combat routine of checking both his augs and his gun, Adam felt the adrenaline kicking in. Nobody at the truck knew where they were going or what they were up against. Instead of asking useless questions, the soldiers were checking their guns and exchanging quiet jokes. The atmosphere was attentive, yet calm. For the first time in weeks, Adam felt good. A little tense, maybe, but entirely focused and clear. He realized how much he had missed this.  
The drive to the surface took not more than three minutes, despite of the many serpentines the road made while meandering upwards. They passed a hidden gate that closed swiftly after spitting out the last of the three trucks. If one did not exactly knew what to look for, it was just another part of a steep rock wall, even freckled with little patches of green.

From his place at the open truck bed, Adam looked up into the sky. It was not his first time in the desert, so he knew what to expect, but he was nonetheless overwhelmed. The sky was so full of stars, shining brighter than anything on earth ever could. The colorful band of the milky way was right above him, making him forget for a second where he was and what he – probably – would have to do soon.

Sure enough, Adam had killed his fair share of bad guys, and he certainly had no bad dreams about them. But that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. More like, he thought, a necessity that came with his job. One that had been clear before he had, one rainy day more than fifteen years ago, entered that shabby recruiting office and signed the paper that sold his body to the government – in a certain way, at least. Well, he had liked what the next years in the service for Uncle Sam had brought, especially since he had become a Special Ops Trooper eight years ago. From America to Africa down to Australia, he had Been There and Done That pretty much everywhere. After all, his latest assignment to Task Force 29 was the logical next step in his career. Maybe it wasn’t, after all, a punishment from his superiors, as he initially had thought, but an actual promotion. Well, time would tell that. Megan would probably have said - 

 

An elbow hit his stomach.  
“Shut your mouth, Jensen. You’re looking stupid that way. Even more than usually.”  
Adam briefly searched for a fitting back speech, but right now none would come to his mind. He was still too awed by the night sky anyway, so he just made sure his mouth was tightly shut and settled back in his seat.

 

The trucks came to a hold in a wide valley, surrounded by cliffs on three of four sides. Vega’s VTOL was just landing ahead of them, whirling up dust and dry grass into the cool night air. A few meters away from the landing zone, Colonel Miller was casually leaned against a 4x4, arms crossed, a vicious grin on his face. He waited until the team members had left their trucks and lined up in formation.

“Good morning, ladies. Wipe the sleep from your eyes, this is a Virtual Reality drill. Goggles are in the box behind me, along with training guns and ammo. Suit yourself, mission briefing starts in two.”

Without any visible emotional reaction – Adam was sure, most of them were not exactly happy to be awoken at 3 a. m. for a drill, though - the team headed towards Miller’s car. Sergeant Argento climbed up onto the truck bed and opened the lids of three big plastic boxes, handing out VR goggles, training guns and ammo to them. Miller beckoned Adam over.

“Lieutenant Jensen, I believe your augmentations are equipped with a VR port?”

“That’s correct, Sir.”

“Alright, no goggles for you, then. Just connect to the training server and get your gun.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Adam activated his HUD and blink-scrolled through the setup. It was a matter of seconds until he found the correct server and logged in with his service ID. His former team had used the VR system as well, either for drills or for planning difficult missions. As the virtual events were directly projected onto his augmented retina, the program looked realistic as hell for Adam. The same was true for sounds, which were directly processed by his cochlear implants. Mission radio would run via Infolink for him as well as for his teammates.

Trained and disciplined as they were, it took the team less than two minutes to gear up and retake formation. Miller nodded at that contentedly.

“Alright, folks. Bad guys have overrun a village of locals. They have shot several of them in the process, the rest is taken hostage. The village is of strategical importance to us; as long as the bad guys hold it, they have cut an important supply line. Your first objective is to retake the village and eliminate the terrorist force. Remain covert; as soon as the enemy spots you, they will start killing the hostages. Second, if possible, rescue the hostages. Maps of the area are sent to your mobile devices, respectively your Infolinks. Find the bad guys, neutralize them. Watch out for civilians, they may not be harmed. That’s it so far. Sergeant Chang is on mission radio for additional intel. Start your VR systems now. Good luck.”

Captain Macready took over Miller’s place in front of the team. “You heard the colonel. Halliday, Brown, you are Team One. Argento, Fisher, Team two, Vazquez, Yang, Team Three. Dennison, you come with me. We scan the area from close up and go in as soon as we have enough intel. Malik, Vega, you take the bird and provide air support.

Malik?, Adam wondered. He knew that name. He turned his head slightly, just enough to look not overly distracted, and there she was. Faridah Malik. Another graduate of his academy. They had been friends back then, even close friends, but after the academy their ways had led into very different directions, and so they eventually had lost sight of each other. He tried to establish eye contact, but she was already on her way to the VTOL with Vega.

“Jensen...” he turned his head back towards Macready when he heard his name. “... and Pritchard, you go up that hill in the south, look for a good sniping spot and establish overwatch. Any questions? No? Alright, then. Time to move!” He clapped his hands to emphasize his words, and the team set into motion.

The top of the hill Macready mentioned was about 750 meters away from where they stood. As soon as Adam had started the VR program, a couple of flat clay brick buildings had appeared in the middle of the valley, perfectly integrating the small bushes and few dry trees that were actually there. Roughly estimated, the distance from the hill to the first couple of them would be about 200 meters, an easy distance for a sniper as experienced and well-equipped as Pritchard. Even the far end of the little village would not be more than 550, maybe 600 meters away.

“Come on, princess, time for a little walk”, Pritchard sneered at him. Sighing, Adam set into motion behind his teammate, easily catching up with him.

“To get this clear right from the start”, Pritchard started the moment they were out of Macready’s hearing range, “I don’t want you with me, and I don’t need you. I can watch my own back and find my targets by myself.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” Adam rather focused on his surroundings than on Pritchard’s rant. He knew this kind of drill. They never went as briefed. There were surprises prepared for them, he was sure of that. And not the sweet kind of surprises.

“Keep your fucking gun down” Pritchard muttered. “There’s nobody here.”

“You'd never know. My old team had a similar situation in a drill -“

“Yeah, sure, whatever, princess. Just make sure you don’t put a hole in my head.”

“VR ammo, already forget?” The ammunition they had loaded in their air rifles was harmless, mostly. The reflecting material they were made of was recognizable for the VR system, so, if a computer-simulated target was hit, the system could exactly compute the reaction the hit would have had on a live target. If a human body was hit by them, the rounds would leave nothing but silvery goo and a mild bruise.

Pritchard grumbled. “Just – don’t shoot at me.”

“Fine.” 

They reached the top of the hill three minutes of awkward silence later. Pritchard sat his backpack down and produced a rubber mat and a bipod out of it, then looked for a spot where he both had a good view over the village and could lie down comfortably for a while. He found one close to a short cliff and settled in there. Adam scanned the surroundings once again, but it was all quiet around them. He started to establish a short patrol pattern.

“Pritchard to Lead, I’m in position”, Pritchard announced over the radio.

“Copy that, Pritchard. Any movements in sight?”, came the reply from Macready.

“Negative, Lead. Start scanning now.”

“Roger. Stand by for new orders. Lead out.”

Pritchard cracked his knuckles and adjusted the optics of his rifle. He threw an angry look at Adam. “Could you stop pacing around? You’re making me nervous.”

“I’m just making sure nobody sneaks up at us.”

“Then do that without disturbing me. I have to focus.”

“Fine.” He walked closer to the edge of the hill and started scanning the area below them. Red blips started showing up on his LIDAR, spread across the village. The system worked both ways: any enemy positions he found were routed back to the common training server and became visible for his team mates, and the other way around. That made reconnaissance way easier, putting all intel into one tactical map that was accessible for everyone in the team and effectively removing blind spots from the combat zone. Team members were visible as blue dots along with their call signs on the map. Adam watched them moving in their designated two-man teams around the simulated village, one by one revealing twenty-five enemy positions – and thirteen green dots, crowded together in two positions. The civilian hostages.

“TF29 Team, this is Lead”, Captain Macready announced over the radio a minute later. “Recon complete, start moving in on your designated targets. Pritchard, keep up overwatch and stay ready for takedown requests.”

“Pritchard to Lead, copy that.”

“Team One to Three, you have a go.”

“Team One to Lead, roger that. Going in now.”

“Team Two to Lead, going in now.

“Team Three to Lead, on the move.”

The teams started moving in on the targets from four sides at once, slowly and effectively removing blip by blip from the map. The outer perimeter was cleared five minutes later without triggering enemy alarms.

“Damn, they’re good”, Adam remarked.

“Yeah, pretty good”, came the unimpressed answer from Pritchard.

The radio crackled into life. “Team Three to Pritchard.”

“Pritchard copying.”

“We have three bad guys east from our position, standing close together and smoking.”

Pritchard checked the map and adjusted his position. “I see them.”

“Take out the one next to the door, the guy with the red and black shemagh around the neck.”

“Roger that. Got a clear shot on him. On your sign.”

“Three – two – one – go!”

Pritchard squeezed the trigger. There was nothing more than a quiet ‘pop’; his air gun was not strong enough to shoot the VR ammo as far as his usual sniper rifle, but the 237 meters shot it had to do now was working just fine. Adam watched through his night vision goggles how the silvery bullet traversed right through the simulated terrorist’s head and made him disappear. “Nice shot”, he stated.

“I know”, was the terse reply.

The two soldiers on the ground – Yang and Vazquez, Adam remembered – had taken down their targets as well and were already on the move again, towards the center of the village where the hostages were held.

 

Sergeant Peter Chang stifled a yawn and stirred his tea. He hated those early morning drills, he really did. Just when he lifted the cup to take a sip, a red icon appeared on the screen in front of him. “New intelligence report”, it stated. Chang clicked it and read the short message. “Fuck!”, he muttered quietly. The team wouldn’t like this one.

 

“Team Two to Lead, our sector is cleared and the hostages are secured. Two hostages seriously injured. Needing air evac.”

“Team One to Lead, we’re clear, too. Waiting for exfil.”

“Team Three to Lead, all bad guys down, hostages in our sector secured. Waiting for exfil.”

“Lead to TF29 teams, roger that. Sending in VTOL for air evac at designated LZ, everyone else exfiltrate by land after the VTOL is RTB. Until then, secure the perimeter and keep your eyes open.”

The teams confirmed. Adam watched the blue and green blips on the map move towards the village center, and not a minute later a distant buzzing announced the VTOL flying in.

 

“See? Just like I said”, Pritchard told Adam, his voice as cold as the desert night wind. “I can find my targets alone, I can watch my back by myself.”

“Yeah, you said so.” Adam rubbed his eyes and sighed. 

“What are you even doing here?”, Pritchard kept bickering. Adam sighed again.

“My job?”

“No, I mean, in general. In this unit.”

“Look, Frank, I don’t like being here, either. I had a nice life back in the States, a woman I loved a lot, a nice little house, a unit of really good people with interesting assignments – basically, I had everything I ever wanted. And then someday some little fucker decided it would be a good idea to bomb himself to hell. Fair enough for him, but unfortunately, he decided to do it in reach of my team. He took them with himself to hell, all of them. I survived because of my augs, with little more than scratches and bruises. And that was it. My unit is dead, my girlfriend left me, and instead of my nice little house, I sleep in a damn tent with the most annoying guy I know. That’s what I’m doing here.”

“Boo-hoo. What a touching story. I could almost pity you. Almost. People die in our job, all the time. Deal with it. And your girl – we are still talking about Megan, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.”

“You know, you stole her from me in the first place.”

“Still that old story? Really?” Adam raised his air gun and scanned the surrounding for enemy movements, hoping Pritchard would follow his example and also return to business and stop this annoying conversation, but he was wrong.

“Still that old story. Until I –“ The team radio crackled.

“Chang to TF29 Teams, I just got new intel. A bunch of new, experimental rocket launchers were stolen yesterday from a depot near Kabul. The thieves seem to be connected to the terrorist force you are just engaging, so watch out for...”

He couldn’t finish. There was a swooshing sound from the opposite side of the village, then a bright white flash where the VTOL was just about to land. Of course, it was just a simulated rocket, but the rendering even on the VR goggles was so realistic that the soldiers on the ground jerked in shock, followed by confused screams.

“Fuck!”, Pritchard hollered. “Where the hell did that come from?”

Adam grabbed his goggles and scanned the hilltop north of their position. “Right there, next to that single tree. Looks like they just – shit, get down, rocket incoming!”

Too late. A swoosh, then a loud bang, and Adam’s view went white. Again.


	5. Putting Out Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After screwing up the drill, Adam and Pritchard are set up for some extra practise. Adam is struggling with some old memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again... I'm not entirely happy with this one because I'm a frickin' perfectionist. Leave some feedback, I live for this shit! Also, if anyone volunteers as beta, please contact me!

_See these eyes so green_  
_I can stare for a thousand years_  
_Colder than the moon_  
_It's been so long_  
(David Bowie – Cat People (Putting Out Fire))

Colonel James Miller was pissed. Seriously pissed. First, because the Earl Grey supplies at the mess hall were empty that morning, and they served him _fucking Rooibush Tea from hell_ for breakfast. Second, and far worse, because his team screwed up today’s drill.

“Alright, folks.” He started pacing up and down in front of his assembled men and women. “The clearing of the perimeter and securing of the hostages went like right out of the fucking textbook. But after that – we didn’t only lose all of the hostages, but also a VTOL along with four team members. Malik, Vega, Pritchard, Jensen, you are dead. Anyone care to explain me how nobody noticed the two targets with fucking big-ass shoulder rockets?”

Awkward silence.

“Sir, Sergeant Chang was-“

“Sergeant Chang was what, Lieutenant Pritchard?” The Colonel stood in front of his sniper, towering above the smaller man. “Not in the field? Is that your excuse for _your_ rookie mistake?”

“Well, basically...” Pritchard swallowed. “Maybe a little late with that intel?”

“Bad excuse, Lieutenant. It would have been your job to detect those hostiles in time – and fucking take them out before they can destroy a million credits bird along with killing my soldiers!” He almost shouted the last sentence into Pritchard’s face. If it wouldn’t have been his mistake as well, Adam would have been amused to watch the self-confident sniper slowly shrink into the ground.

“Sir?” Chang chimed in.

“Yes, Sergeant?”

“Mission intel later said those hostiles were using Glass Shield Cloaking.”

“Thanks for the update, but that’s no excuse either, Sergeant. A heat scan would have revealed their positions. Did you perform a heat scan, Lieutenant Jensen?”

Adam gave Miller a puzzled look and shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Why not, Lieutenant Jensen?”

“First, I didn't even know we're equipped with those. And second, mission intel said nothing about hostiles with high tech augmentations.”

“And that relieves you from expecting them? You got those, why not the enemy?”

He looked to the ground. “No answer to that, sir.”

“Didn’t I tell you just yesterday that the guys we are facing here are extremely dangerous and well-equipped, and that my soldiers have to use their goddamned brains?”

“Yes, sir, you told me that.”

“Then ACT like it!”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Miller took a deep breath. “Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Remember today’s lesson. You are dismissed. Pritchard and Jensen – you're not. See me in my office in five.”

 

Miller sat down the data pad he was just studying when Adam and Pritchard entered his office.

“Lieutenants, I'm glad you made it here in one piece”, he told them, smiling sarcastically. He took a deep breath. “Alright. Let me put it that way: I'm just in the right mood to schedule you for cleaning the shithouse. But that wouldn't do the team any good, because apparently my cleaning crew knows their job better than you two. Plus, you need a chance to improve. So, be grateful that I'm a pragmatist and use that chance.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Pritchard saluted. Adam followed his example.

“Good. You two will spend the day at the VR shooting range and practise teamwork as sniper and spotter. Sergeant Argento is awaiting you.”

 

“Welcome to detention, gentlemen!” Aria chuckled. “Heard you two were set up for some extra practise?”

Pritchard made a face. “Yeah, I really feel like back in high school. Teacher apparently has a bad day.”

“Don’t worry, Lieutenants. This will be more fun like detention in school, promise. The ‘teacher’ told me you need some practise in teamwork. So, I picked some really nice VR scenario for you. Goggles for you, Lieutenant Pritchard, guns and ammo are inside.” She pointed at the steel door behind her back. “Help yourself, and enjoy the game. I’ll be right here, monitoring the whole thing.”

 

Adam and Pritchard geared up quickly, then Pritchard gave Aria the go over the comms. A computer-generated landscape flickered up on Adam’s retinal display, respectively on Pritchard’s VR goggles. They found themselves standing on the top of a hill, overlooking a wide valley not unlike the one they had actually been in this morning. Just like this morning, in that valley sat a small group of clay brick houses with flat roofs, surrounded by dry bushes and a few crippled trees. The ground was dry and sandy, and the simulated sunlight was so bright it almost hurt their eyes. 

“Alright, gentlemen”, Aria announced on the comms. “This is just spot, aim and shoot, starting nice and easy. Here come the bad guys!”

Adam started scanning the area with his optical enhancements. He spotted a movement in between the huts, slightly to his right.

“Got one, your two o’clock.”

Pritchard didn’t answer, but he adjusted his rifle, and not three seconds later he squeezed the trigger. A muted ‘plop’, and the target disappeared from Adam’s HUD; he immediately returned to scanning. “Your twelve, the roof of the last hut.”

Plop.

“Nine o’clock, next to the bush.”

Plop.

The comm crackled. “All targets down. Nice work, Lieutenants. Here comes round two.”

 

This time, the targets were moving around in steady patterns, some of them hiding behind buildings or in the vegetation, but still easy enough to spot, and Pritchard made short business with them. When Adam glanced over at him, he looked like pure concentration; propped up on one knee, the sniper rifle on a bipod on the railing in front of them, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Adam’s stomach suddenly clenched. He had seen that very expression on somebody else's face before.

Where...?

Fuck. Megan.

She was literally the last person he wanted to think about right now. He looked back at Pritchard, trying to focus on something else. The sniper was turning around a bit to adjust his rifle. His uniform shirt had ridden up, revealing his lower abdomen, just the lower half of his belly button and the fine line of dark blonde hair underneath, running down into his pants. Adam couldn’t help it, he had to look at the way the firm muscles shifted when Pritchard turned around.

At him.

“Anything wrong, Lieutenant Jensen?”

_Shit._ “Not with me, Lieutenant Pritchard.” It took Adam all strength of mind he could muster not to blush, while he felt his pants becoming suspiciously tight. _What the hell?_

Plop. The last target disappeared from the map.

“Well done, gentlemen”, Aria announced. “Ready for round three?”

The scenery around them flickered and changed; this time, they found themselves on a roof in the middle of the village from before.

“This'll be better worth my time”, Pritchard sneered. “I'm getting bo-”

A simultaneous salvo out of at least three heavy rifles made him and Adam jump to search cover behind the low brick wall – which was actually there and part of the shooting range - ahead of them.

“Welcome to round three, gentlemen”, Aria told them on the comms. “Rules have changed now. Your job is to escape the ambush – in four minutes. Good luck!” Adam could have sworn she was snickering.

“Dammit!”, Pritchard cursed through clenched teeth. “How many are there?”

Adam risked a short peer over the wall, but jumped back immediately when a bullet missed his right ear by a few centimetres. “Got four at least, closing in fast on ten to two o'clock.”

“Son of a bitch! This is no job for a sniper!” A strand had come loose from his ponytail; Pritchard angrily tucked it back behind his ear.

“That’s probably what this is about. We’ll have to adjust.”

“Fuck adjusting!” He took a deep breath. “Alright. What do you suggest?”

“I’d say we –“ A bullet struck into the wall in front of Adam and almost pierced through it. “We better get the hell out of here. I say I use my optical camo, mark the enemy positions. We take them out simultaneously, and then we fall back as far as possible.”

“Fair enough.” Pritchard nodded. “Ready when you are.”

Adam checked the energy level of his augs. Three full cells, that would do the job. He activated the Glass Shield, slowly rose up and peered over the railing. He was glad he was becoming invisible for Pritchard, too, although he was pretty sure the shock had killed his erection; however, the last thing he wanted right now was to give Pritchard more reasons to mock him. He took a steadying breath and focused on the task. “Got one on the roof at your nine and one on the ground at eleven”, he announced.

“Copy that.”

One by one, he revealed the positions of seven more targets, all in all four on roofs with sniper rifles and five on the ground, armed with heavy rifles. The house the two of them were sitting on was right in the center of the small village, with two smaller buildings on either side and a target on each roof. Behind their position, about fifteen meters back, stood one larger house. The only way out of the situation would be to fall back behind that larger house, which would mean a considerable sprint for Pritchard without much cover. He went back behind the wall and deactivated the cloak.

“You finally ready?”, Pritchard muttered. “Time is running low!”

“Then you’d better not waste time complaining. Need to be careful, or you might have to fight your way out of here on your own.”

Pritchard rolled his eyes. “If you say so, Princess. Well, however, I might have a plan to get us out of here.”

“Enlighten me.”

“If you take a look at that supply box, you should find some grenades.”

Adam checked said box in the corner. It was an actual box, perfectly integrated into the VR scenario, containing additional ammunition and two VR gas grenades.

“Got them”, he told Pritchard.

“Good. Now, come over here, and toss it at the two targets on the ground at my twelve. That should give me enough space to take out the two guys on the roofs on the right.”

Adam nodded curtly. “On your sign.”

“Go.”

The plan worked out nicely. Apparently, the two guys on the ground were too busy shooting at them to notice the incoming grenade. A green flash, a hiss from the leaking gas, and two red blips disappeared from the map. The green cloud hadn’t dissipated when a muted ‘plop’ removed the first target on the roof, and a second later the other one.

“Two targets left on the ground”, Pritchard announced.

Adam raised his combat rifle. “My shot.” He activated his cloak, took aim and cut loose a three-rounds burst at the first enemy, who had been taking cover in between the two smaller houses ahead. The target disappeared, and Adam adjusted his rifle on the second one who was blocking their escape route towards the larger house. Another three-rounds burst, and the target was gone.

Meanwhile, Pritchard had been busy, too, and taken out the two remaining targets on the roofs to their left. “One left on the ground. Your shot, princess.”

Adam, still cloaked, made short business with that one. “Alright, should be clear now.”

Pritchard raised an eyebrow. “Should be?”

“Do you see anything?”, Adam asked back, slightly annoyed.

“No. Just to be sure, did you -”

Aria interrupted them. “Gentlemen – sixty seconds left!”

“Dammit! Alright, Jensen, we gotta go now.”

“Copy that. You go first, I cover you.”

Pritchard grabbed his rifle and jumped over the railing. The building was really flat, even in reality it would have been an easy jump. He sprinted across the open space towards the corner of the building while Adam secured his way from above. When Pritchard was safe, Adam followed quickly.

“Thirty seconds left. You have to make it to the gate ahead”, Aria announced.

“Same procedure?” Adam asked, and Pritchard nodded.

“Yeah, I run, you cover.”

“Go!”

Pritchard started running.

“Fifteen seconds!”

He reached the gate and turned back to cover Adam, who immediately started running. Just when he reached the open space between the building and the gate, he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye.  
Around the building came a huge enemy in full body armour. Adam raised his gun simultaneously with Pritchard and started shooting immediately. He must have hit the enemy – actually, he was such a huge target that it was hard to miss at all – but apparently, the armor held up. The enemy raised his heavy rifle. In a split second, Adam activated his cloak and threw himself sideward, but it was too late: he felt a small sting followed by a dull ache on his forehead, then his retinal display went black.

“Time’s up, gentlemen!”


	6. Feel For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the failed target practice, all Adam wants is to drink a beer in peace. He doesn't get a chance, since someone he hasn't seen in years shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. I used #NaNoWriMo to focus on writing down the rest of the story in one piece, and what shall I say, it's finished! Increased the rating for some smut in the next chapters, because my spoiled mind demanded for it. Also, a big Thank You to Casie-mod for beta-reading!

_Only so many times_  
_I can say I long for you_  
_The lily among the thorns_  
_The prey among the wolves_  
(Nightwish – Feel For You)

Adam slowly moved himself into a sitting position and shook his head to fight away the dizziness. Dying in VR was not a pleasant thing, simulated or not. His augmentations had been shut down forcefully and were now rebooting excruciatingly slow – for the second time this day. When his sight finally came back, he realized Pritchard wasn't the only one with him on the shooting range. A huge, vaguely familiar man peeled himself out of an exo suit. As his vision sharpened, Adam could make out a broad scar on the man’s face, reaching from his mouth almost up to his ear.

“Welcome back, Lieutenant”, Captain Macready told him. “For a guy with your augs, you went down awfully quick.”

Adam groaned and massaged his forehead. His fingers touched something sticky; when he looked at them, they were coated in silver. Leftovers from VR ammo.

“For a guy of your size, you were awfully hard to spot.”

Macready smirked. “That was part of the plan. You didn’t do bad, however. You failed, but not badly.”

Pritchard, who had been stowing away his VR equipment, turned around to them. “You snuck up on us after we already cleared the whole thing!”, he sneered angrily. “How were we supposed to see you?”

“You weren’t.” Macready lent against the wall and crossed his arms casually. His dark, almost black eyes were trained on Pritchard.

“Look, whatever you wanted to demonstrate here”, Pritchard ranted, “Keeping our guards up, failing, whatever – we are senior officers, not bloody recruits you can toss around as you fucking please!”

Macready didn’t so much as blink. His voice kept its controlled tone. “Then act like you are, Lieutenant.”

“Oh, give me a break. I need a smoke.” Pritchard stomped out of the room.

Captain Macready sighed dramatically and turned at Adam. “What the hell did you do to him?”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“See, Lieutenant Pritchard was already on edge before you showed up here, but since you did, he’s a real pain in the ass. Coincidence?”

“Must be, because I didn’t do anything.”

“Well, once you figure it out – stop it.” He tucked his helmet under his arm and left.

Adam sighed, grabbed a mostly clean-looking cloth and rubbed his forehead clean of the silver liquid. This day kept getting shittier with every passing hour. He stowed away the air gun and the remaining ammo, then left the shooting range, too.

 

Out in the cave he almost ran into Pritchard, who was standing next to the shooting range, smoking. He tried to ignore him, but the sniper called after him. “Don’t run away, princess. At least not until you want to leave for good. The colonel wants to see us. ASAP.”

“Great”, Adam muttered. “Just what I need now.”

 

Colonel Miller’s mood hadn’t improved since this morning. In fact, he seemed even more pissed.

“Lieutenants!”, he barked at them. “Captain Macready just reported to me. You two failed again. Do you have an explanation for this?”

Pritchard straightened his back visibly and tried to maintain eye contact with Miller. “Sir, we had the situation cleared when Captain Macready snuck in on us. We had no means of discovering him before attempting to fall back.”

“And while you were falling back? Is there anything that relieves you from keeping your guard up while still in the hot zone?”

“No, sir.”

“Then why didn't you do that? Lieutenant Jensen, anything?”

Adam blinked a few times to fight the uprising blush when he remembered what his mind actually had been busy with throughout most of the drill. Fuck, it was not like these kind of thoughts regarding Pritchard were new to him, but that had been years ago. He thought he really was through with it, especially after he was with Megan. Maybe it was the fact that Megan was gone now...

“Lieutenant Jensen? Do you have an explanation for me?”

“No good one, sir.”

Miller sighed. “At least you’re honest. Alright, let me get this clear. You really need to focus, both of you. Whatever it is you’ve got in your systems – get it out, goddamnit! I need you both with everything you’ve got, because this mission is going to get ugly. Am I clear? I don’t want to get any of my men getting killed, especially not because of carelessness! Is there anything you have to say?”

“No, sir”, they both mumbled simultaneously.

“Dismissed, then.”

 

Adam left Miller’s cave with a really bad taste in his mouth. He felt like getting drunk, seriously drunk. Of course, this was not an option, and it would have been pretty difficult since the mess hall offered nothing stronger than light beer. Rationed, no more than three an evening. He would go with that for now, though.

The ‘saloon’ was crowded, dinner was just over and most of the soldiers – except for the night guards – enjoyed some downtime together. Adam managed to get a seat at the bar and ordered a beer.

Miller was right, he thought. He had to get this shit out of his system. What was this even in the first place? PTSD from the bombing attack on his team? He had always considered himself resistant to that, but then, of all the shitty situations he had been in, this had been the worst. He never had seen so many comrades – fuck, friends – dying right in front of him. The green-haired kid still haunted his dreams, so yes, this might actually be some kind of PTSD. But there was more. Something that had to do with Megan – and Pritchard.

 

“That seat taken?”

Adam looked up, into a broad face framed by short blonde hair. A face he hadn’t seen in years, and which he wouldn’t be sorry if he never saw it again. Yet, there he was.

“Burke? Is that you?”

“Excuse me? Have we met bef-“ His eyes narrowed. “Fuck, yeah, of course I know you! Adam Jensen himself! The master of self-righteousness. Didn’t recognize you with all that chrome and stuff. What the hell are you doing here?”

“You’re the second guy today who's asked me that. Apparently, this place is a nest of asshole ghosts from my past. If I had known that beforehand, I would have seriously considered not coming here.” Adam was really not in the mood for a conversation with this guy and hoped his salty answer would have made that clear. But Burke laughed and sat down on the bar stool next to him, waving at the bartender for a beer.

“Yeah, this place is crawling with assholes, trust me, Jensen. Actually, I shouldn’t be surprised that you showed up here, too. You fit in nicely.”

“Since you asked me – what are you doing here? I thought they tucked you into some basement archive after your demotion.”

Burke gave a dry laugh. “Oh, they tried, they really did. But I still have friends who believed me over some stupid bitch.”

“So, you haven’t learned anything out of it. Still the old sexist shit.”

“I have learned, seriously. For example, when to shut the fuck up. A lesson you apparently still have to master.” Then he seemed to remember something. “Wait, you were the one who fucked up today’s drill, weren’t you?”

Adam rolled his eyes behind the dark shields. “For the records, it wasn’t me alone. By the way, what was your part in that drill? I haven’t heard Captain Macready saying your name.”

“Well, I wasn’t part of it. I was on a scouting mission with the backup unit I'm part of until this afternoon.”

“Part of?” Adam gave a half-smile, looking at Burke's uniform insignia. “Not leader of it, Staff Sergeant?”

“Aw, fuck you, Jensen. Besides, I’ve never thanked you properly for your part in the whole story.”

“My part? I didn’t do a thing. You were the one who harassed the captain and called her, quote, an incompetent bitch.”

“Did I?” Burke took a long swig from his beer. “And who peached on me at the bosses?”

“I would have loved to do that, Burke, especially after your stunt back in Damascus that almost got three of us killed. But it wasn’t me. Colonel Sarif overheard your rants, more than once. No need to tell him anything.”

“Sarif, huh? The same Colonel Sarif whose dick you sucked?”

Adam’s eyes narrowed, his voice turned to a low growl. “Watch your mouth, Staff Sergeant. You’re about to make the same mistake again.”

“Seriously, Jensen, fuck you. I don't take orders from you. Where were we again – ah, yes, I wanted to thank you for getting me kicked out of my team and out of my fucking rank!”

Adam saw the punch coming, but he didn’t do anything to avoid it. Burke’s fist slammed into his stomach, but he hardly felt it through his dermal armor. Actually, the punch seemed to have more effect on Burke himself, telling from the pained look on his face. But that was rendering the man even angrier, he jumped to his feet. His next punch, with the other hand, went for Adam’s nose. He felt the bone cracking, blood gushed out, staining his uniform shirt. Adam decided this was enough. When Burke aimed for his kidney, he blocked his hand, but Burke rose his knee and slammed it right into his groin. Adam gasped, he saw stars for a second. After all, Burke was still as good in hand-to-hand combat as he used to be. His fist went for Adam’s head for a fierce, finishing blow, but stopped mid-air.

“That’s enough, Master Sergeant!” A familiar snarl. Pritchard.

Burke turned around at him. “This is none of your business, Lieutenant. Jensen here and I are just having a friendly discussion about old times.”

“Then I suggest you work on your communication skills, because that style of yours sucks.” He turned at the two soldiers he had brought along. “Arrest him.”

Under muttered curses, Burke was handcuffed and dragged out.

“I told the colonel that fucker would be trouble”, Pritchard sneered and handed a clean napkin to Adam. “Your nose is bleeding.”

“Thanks, I know.” Carefully, Adam wiped the blood away and touched the bridge of his nose. The bone did not move, so apparently it wasn’t broken after all. He sat back on the bar stool. “You know, I had everything under control”, he mumbled at Pritchard.

“Sure you had.” He snorted. “You’re welcome, anyway. I guess getting your nose smashed was part of the plan, then?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. Didn't want the bastard to get away with 'attempted assault on a ranking officer'.”

“Fair enough. You're a masochist, though.”

He sat down next to Adam on the stool Burke had been sitting on before and ordered two beers, shoving one over to Adam.

“So, care to tell me why Burke went that mad on you?”

Adam sighed. “Not really. Just – we go far back. He was in my first unit after the academy. Pulled off some sexist bullshit, got demoted for that and has a grudge on everyone and everything since then.”

Pritchard nodded. “That explains a lot. Well, he won’t get away with that stunt. The colonel will throw him in jail – if he’s lucky.”

“I guess he’s earned himself a timeout.” Adam raised his glass, but quickly sat it back down again as a sharp pain jabbed through his nose. “Damn, I'm gonna feel that for days.”

“Maybe you should go see Dr. Auzenne, then.”

“Worried about me, Francis?” 

The sniper's eyes darkened when Adam used his full name. “No”, he said coldly. “I – just want you to be fit for the next drill, or mission, or whatever. Since I understand you won't leave us anytime soon and Miller won't take you off my back...”

Adam smirked curtly and nodded. “Yeah, sure. But you're right, I should see the doc, so she can document the effects of Burke's assault. But this can wait. I've got a beer to finish.”

“You need to be alone for that?”

“Not necessarily. Since you're already here - feel free to stay.”

Pritchard nodded and emptied half his glass in one swig. “You know”, he started after a minute of silence, “Miller is right. We need to sort this out.”

Adam thought about that for a second. His first reflex would have been a snide, sarcastic answer, but the way Pritchard had his eyes fixed downward on some spot on the bar, unconsciously clutching a napkin in his hands, touched something deep inside him.

“Fine”, he answered eventually. “What do you need me to do?”

Pritchard blurted out: “Stop being such a damn smug asshole, for starters!”

“Hey, if you really want to sort this out, you should stop insulting me.”

“Fine!” Pritchard glared at him. “Keep up your typical Jensen bullshit, just like back in the days!”

“Seriously, Frank, what do you mean?”

“Stop playing dumb, Jensen! Or maybe you are... Look, I didn't become the team's best shot overnight. I had to earn that title, I had to earn the men's respect, and I did that through fucking hard work. And then... then you show up, all bright and shiny with those fancy augs and your dark, mystic aura, and suddenly Miller doesn't trust me anymore to watch my own fucking back!” His eyes were glistening in the cold neon light, soft red flushed his cheeks.  
“It's... it's just like back at the academy. I was the best of my class because I worked my ass off. I also worked hard to impress this bright, beautiful girl, and just when I'm about to make my move, bam! Along comes that undergraduate boy, and she falls for him, just like everybody else!”

Adam sighed and looked down at the table. “Where should I even start?” He lifted his head again and looked Pritchard in the eye. “See, first of all, I never meant to hurt you; neither do I plan on dethroning you, sniper king. As far as Miller told me, he wanted me here to watch your back in the first place because you were... somehow distracted, lately.”

“Then he shouldn't place another distraction right in front of my face!”, Pritchard snapped. “And about Megan...”

“I didn't know you were into her when I asked her out, neither did she! She thought you were gay!”

“Well, I'm not! At least not... technically... why did she even think that in the first place?” His face turned into a bright red, all softness gone.

“She thought...” Adam hesitated. “She thought you had a thing for me.”

Pritchard laughed, just a pitch too loud. “For you? You're really the most egocentric idiot I've ever come across!”

Later, Adam would wonder why he did it, being fully aware of the consequences. Softly, he said: “Well, I had a thing for you.”

Pritchard's eyes widened, his mouth dropped open in shock. “Say again?”

Adam looked down at his feet. “I – I had a crush on you. A serious one.”


	7. The Art of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bad guys collect a big package.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After playing MD in German, I seriously wondered why nobody was shipping Adam and Singh; Arun's German voice is ridiculously sexy, transporting so much chemistry with Adam. Then I watched the cut scenes in English and stopped wondering...

_Breaking the will to fight among the enemy_  
_Force them to hunt me they will play my game_  
_And play by my rules I will be close but still untouchable_  
_No more will I see suffering and pain_

(Sabaton – The Art of War)

 

Meanwhile in Pakistan...

 

Lieutenant Masood of the Pakistan Army squinted into the darkness of the mountain road. It was almost 2 a. m., he had been driving for six hours by now. As soon as they would have reached the top of the pass ahead, it would be time for a switch. When he reached for the cigarette pack in his breast pocket, the radio crackled.

“Transport unit Delta-77, this is command, come in.”

He reached for the microphone. “Command, Delta-77 lead copying.”

“Got bad news for you, guys. There has been an accident ahead, something big with several trucks. The mountain pass is closed.”

“Roger that, command. Shall we stop until it's cleared?”

“Negative. Could be a day or more, police said something about fire and several dead. Take the road through the valley.”

Masood groaned. “Command, you know that will be a detour of at least five hours? Plus, we will be off comms for about an hour.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, but that's better than waiting anyway.”

“Copy that. Transport out.”

He changed the radio frequency to inform the rest of the crew, driving in two SUV's behind him. “Sorry guys, we'll have to take the long road. Pee break and driver switch in 30.”

 

“What the fuck...” The narrow dust road ahead, which had been lying in deepest dark for the past 20 minutes, was illuminated by flickering lights. Fire, burning in three oil drums, effectively blocking the road. Sergeant Awan, sitting next to Masood, clutched his MP.

“Do I need to say I don't like this?”

Masood sneered. “Yeah, no shit. This has 'ambush' written all over it.” He tapped the radio key, but, as expected, they were off signal. The steep mountains to each side of the road blocked any radio waves, apart from the short-range transmitters. He squinted into the darkness outside the car. Nothing.

“Alright, guys”, he told the three other soldiers in the car and the rest of his twelve-man team over the comms, “weapons ready, we leave the cars. Shoot first, ask later.”

He grabbed his MP and opened the door. Once more, he wished they were equipped with night vision devices, but the two pairs they had stowed away somewhere in one of the vans were not functioning; like many other pieces of their equipment, they were hopelessly outdated, spare parts hard to find.

Masood grimaced and stepped out into the night, rising his gun. It was quiet, apart from a few nighttime birds and the idling car engines. Consequently, the three thuds, almost simultaneous, were clearly heard. Masood cursed and turned around as one of his men screamed: “Grenades!”

It was too late. The pungent stench of gas filled his throat and made him cough, and within a heartbeat the world went black.

 

Arun Singh closed his seat belt and put a smile on his face. “Well, that went surprisingly smooth”, he told his co-driver. He would rather not add how uncomfortable he felt with the fact that he just helped murder twelve men.

“The result of careful planning and supreme hacking skills”, his co-driver answered, his English tinted with a heavy Russian accent. Singh didn't like the guy. Marchenko – whether that was his actual name or not – was usually calm and stoic, but underneath his cultivated surface lay a clear threat of violence, ready to burst out whenever Marchenko thought it would be necessary.

“Well, if the rest of the plan is equally good, we'll be home with the package for tomorrow's dinner”, Black answered casually.

“Sure it is. The boss himself has set it up.”

Singh nodded and cracked his knuckles as he started the SUV's motor. “Let's do this, then!”

 

Ansari Army base came in sight at 6 a. m., Singh's team was only minutes behind the schedule of Transport Delta-77. Two guards were posted at the base entrance. One of them stepped up to Singh's window, shining a flashlight inside. The second guard had a scanner on a stick he held under each car, checking for explosives.

“Papers and pass codes”, the first guard demanded briskly. Marchenko had the papers the boss had provided them with ready and handed them over. The guard checked them, nodded and handed them back. “Pass code?”

“September the 6th”, Singh yawned, demonstratively bored. The date referred to the Defense Day, a national holiday dedicated to the armed forces.

“Have a nice day, gentlemen”, the guard answered and opened the gate.

 

They had breakfast with the base crew at the mess hall, afterwards a young soldier brought Singh – acting as the team's Commanding Officer – to the base commander, a major with gray streaks in his black hair and short beard. “I haven't seen you before”, he said after exchanging salutes with Singh.

“Lieutenant Awan, Logistics Unit Beta-21. Delta-77 is on R&R.”

“Again?”, the major asked. “Apparently, I'm on the wrong post here. Haven't had any leave in half a year, we're pretty busy here.”

“The Taliban?”, Singh asked, putting on a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah, these bastards keep trying stuff. Without much success, so far, but with this Jihadi guy around... I really don't like that situation.”

“No shit, sir! From what I've heard, the brass is damn nervous about him, too.”

The major nodded. “Figures. Well, your package is ready and waiting for you, along with the second one.”

“A second one?” Singh raised an eyebrow in staged surprise.

“Didn't they tell you?” The major reached for a data pad on his desk and shoved it over to Singh. “Orders came in yesterday, you have to take that empty tanker truck for chemical agents with you and return it to the disposal facility.”

Singh sighed and rolled his eyes. “When will those idiots learn to communicate orders properly? By the way, this will stretch security for the package dangerously thin.”

“Yeah, I know. But since the package itself is pretty much Top Secret and nobody outside this post – and a few guys up the ranks – know it's even here, I think you're safe.”

“Let's just hope so. It's not exactly small, though. If one of the Taliban decides to take out their binoculars...”

“Concerns noted, Lieutenant”, the major said and went up. “Well, I'd give you an escort, but I'm pretty thin on men and vehicles, too.”

“I see.” Singh went up as well and saluted. “Major.”

“Lieutenant.”

 

The crewman from before brought Singh, Vince Black and three others from their team to their designated 'packages', two big heavy-duty trucks, one an empty tanker, specifically constructed for chemical warfare agents; the second, much longer one was actually a mobile launch pad for the HATF V-Ghauri Medium Range Missile, carrying one of said missiles, scheduled for deconstruction and disposal.

“Black? You come with me”, Singh ordered. The rest of them split up on the tanker and the three captured SUV’s, forming a guarded convoy.

The guards at the front gate simply waved them through. When they were out of sight of the base, Vince Black gave a long, relieved sigh.

“Well, that didn’t go bad, all in all.”

“Shut the fuck up, Black! We’re not clear yet.”

Black smirked. “What, are you superstitious or something?”

“Hell, no. Just – got my experiences.”

“You’re doing this whole stuff for quite some time now, aren’t you?”

Singh was glad he stayed that vague. Black was a rookie, after all, and although they were alone in the truck, one could never know who was listening in. Turning mobile phones into bugs was a piece of cake for the boss, Singh knew that damn well.

“Pulled off my first job when you were still wearing diapers”, he answered gruffly.

“Got any stories for me? For learning purposes, of course.” Black was still smirking.

“Yeah, learning purposes, sure. I’ll tell you what -” The SUV ahead of them suddenly braked sharply and stopped. Singh cursed and braked, too.

An armored 4x4, painted in the colors of the Pakistan army, had blocked the road ahead. Three armed soldiers had climbed out and were now beckoning Singh’s men out of their vehicles. “Black, you stupid asshole, you got us jinxed!”, Singh muttered under his breath.

“I thought you weren’t superstitious.”

“Aw, shut the fuck up.” Singh climbed out of the driver’s cabin and casually walked over to the soldiers. “Something wrong, gentlemen?”, he asked in Urdu.

“You tell me”, the group’s leader, a sergeant, answered. “Corporal Meghwar here was expecting his brother with you guys. Now that he didn’t show up, he’s a little worried.”

“I see.” Singh nodded and smiled while he was cursing inwardly. How the hell did those family connections slip past the boss?

The soldier introduced as Corporal Meghwar stepped up and looked Singh’s men up and down. “You are not Transport Unit Delta-77, are you?”

“No, we’re not”, Singh answered calmly. “We are Unit Beta-21, the replacement.”

“Replacement? I talked to my brother on the phone right before they left their base yesterday. He told me he’d be here to have morning tea with me today. So, where is he?”

 _Shit._ “They didn’t tell you?”, he tried to improvise.

“Tell me what?”

“There has been an accident, shortly after Beta-21 left base. Nothing serious, but their vans are scrap.”

“Seriously?” The boy snorted. “You think I buy this shit? Who are you, Taliban?”

The sergeant placed a hand on his shoulder. “Whoa there, Meghwar. You can’t just -”

A muted ‘plop’ cut him off. His eyes widened in shock, then he slowly stumbled backwards, a dark red hole in his forehead. He hadn’t reached the ground when two more shots followed the first one, sending the two remaining soldiers to the ground, too. 

Singh turned around, finding Marchenko leaned out of the driver’s cabin of the second truck, silenced pistol still trained on the dead soldiers.

“Victor! Are you crazy?”, he screamed at him. “You didn't have to shoot them, I got it under control!”

“Sorry, Singh.” Unimpressed, Marchenko took the pistol down and tucked it back into the holster. “Didn’t sound like ‘under control’ from here.”

“Fuck!” Singh wiped over his mouth, realizing that his hands were shaking. “They’ll know something is off when their patrol won’t return.”

“They’ll know anyway when the package doesn’t reach the disposal facility.”

“Yeah, but that won’t be before tomorrow morning. Fuck! We’ll... have to get rid of them...”

“Well, we’re high up in the mountains, we could simply stage a little accident.”, Black chimed in.

Singh considered that for a few seconds, calming himself down slowly. Then he nodded. “Alright.”

 

30 minutes later, he stood next to Marchenko, staring down the slope into the flames of the burning wreckage.

“Problem solved.” The Russian's face was looking way too content for the situation. Shit, Singh thought. That guy would be trouble, he knew it.


	8. Cut Me Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TF29 learns about the bad guys's transport. Pritchard tries to cope with the unpleasant aftermath of Adam's confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feedback is highly appreciated ;-)

_Fear casts the longest shadow_   
_Turning your heart into glass_   
_No, don't you move or we both will break_   
_(Lord of the Lost – Cut Me Out)_

Hot water, pearling on his skin, making his tense shoulders loosen up. He sighs in relief. The officer's bathroom is empty at this early morning hour, just the way he likes it.

Pictures bubble up in his mind, unprompted, unwelcome, tempting nonetheless.

Green and golden eyes, hidden behind dark shields.

Soft, black hair, black beard scratching sensitive spots on his neck, teeth biting down there, almost hard enough to break skin.

Hands run over his flushed chest, he pretends they are not his own but ones made of onyx polymer. They pinch his hard nipples, wander down his stomach, rubbing circles around his navel, play with the soft hair underneath, run further down. He is panting now, biting down on his lower lip to keep quiet.

He gives in to temptation, no, to the urge, hands wrapped around his throbbing cock, pumping it frantically. Moments later he comes, biting back a scream that threatens to escape his throat.

The aftermath tastes bitter, he feels bile rising up in his throat as the cooling water washes away the last drops of come from his body. He knows these feelings: guilt, regret, disgust, self-loathing. The better the high, the deeper the low afterwards. He turns his face into the cold stream as footsteps approach.

 

“Morning, Pritchard.” Of course, of all the people on this fucking base, it had to be Jensen entering the shower. Frank wrapped a towel around his waist and nodded at him.

“You alright?” Jensen's eyes were dark with – concern?

“Yeah, I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?”

“I – just noticed you didn't sleep in your bunk last night. I just wondered...”

“What?”

“If it had something to do with what we've been talking about yesterday.”

“Actually, yes”, Frank told him coldly, looking him in the eye for a second. “And no, I don't want to talk about it. I have nothing to say – except for one thing, that is. I'm pissed because I made an attempt to settle things, and you threw... this – thing... right into my face.”

Jensen looked to the ground. “Look, Pritchard, I'm sorry. I'm not even sure why I told you this. It was a bad idea.”

“Yes, it was”, Frank snapped back. “From now on, I'm going to work with you as I'm told, I'm going to be perfectly professional, but don't you ever try talking to me about personal stuff.”

“Understood.” Jensen nodded.

 

Frank wasn't halfway through his breakfast when the alarm set off.

“All field operators to OPS, repeat, all field operators to OPS!”

The soldier on the next table jumped up so fast he knocked his chair over. _Rookie_ was Frank's first thought, but then he recognized the man as Master Sergeant Vazquez. Clumsy as always. No need to hurry for himself, he decided and took another fork full of egg before going up and sauntering towards the exit.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.” Colonel Miller's face was dead serious, not the faintest hint of a smile. No drill, then. Fine with Frank.

“We have a situation”, Miller started. “Sergeant Chang intercepted a transmission that suggests our friends got their hands on something really nasty, and that they'll transport it to their base as we are speaking. We still were unable to locate the exact position of that base, so it's not entirely clear which route they'll take. Chang is running simulations as we speak. I want everybody to get ready and gear up for deployment in ten – questions?”

 

Ten minutes later the trucks headed out, along with the VTOL. Chang's simulations had suggested an intercept position about fifteen kilometers south of base, where the main road – the only road big enough for heavy trucks in a radius of thirty kilometers – led through a narrow valley, just deep and broad enough for an ambush.

Jensen was sitting next to Frank, tactful enough to remain silent. Frank just closed his eyes, trying to catch up on some sleep he missed last night. It took him a lot of willpower and four different meditation techniques – one of them he hadn't used since learning it in sniper school – to calm down his mind and not drift back into the looming spiral spinning around in his mind.

When the truck stopped half an hour later, he felt somewhat better, clear enough for the task ahead. 

Captain Macready, in full body armor, jumped out of the first truck, rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles.

“Alright, folks, satellites have shown one big tanker, escorted by three SUV's. That suggests about fifteen tangos, transporting most likely toxic chemicals. Make sure you don't accidentally hit the tanker.”

He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. The rising sun was already heating up the dusty landscape; the day would be a hot one, he thought. Again.

“So, this is how it's gonna go down. Pairings as usual. Team 1, you go down there and plant an EMP trap on the road. Jensen and Pritchard will have the detonator, they will stay up here. Teams 1 to 3 then take positions along the road, Team 1 and 2 on the sides, 3 behind the curve over there, so you can attack from behind. Dennison, you come with me, we'll attack from the front. Make sure you're well covered, there are enough big rocks along the road to do so. The bad guys will most likely be heavily armed. Air support is already in position.” He pointed upwards, where a faint buzz announced the circling VTOL.

“Anything else? Good, move, then!”

 

Five minutes later, they were in their designated positions. Frank had the detonator tucked away safely in his breast pocket. His eyes, through the rifle's optics, were now trained on the road. Jensen was standing a few meters away, scanning the road with binoculars. Frank sent a silent curse at him. How the hell did that guy manage to dig up all those old feelings so easily, while Frank was sure he had buried them for good? Years ago, he had made a decision. He could never be with a guy; no, he couldn't give the old man that satisfaction.

But that had been years ago. Things were about to change. Unconsciously, he tapped the piece of paper tucked away in his breast pocket along with the detonator. Maybe he should...

He shook his head. Not now.

He took a slow, steadying breath and focused on the road.

The empty road.

Where nothing happened.

At all.

 

Sergeant First Class Peter Chang was hacking away on his keyboard frantically. He didn't like the directions that intel had come from. It had been... too _convenient_ , for his taste, and too vaguely. Sure, those ISA guys in Pakistan did a great job, of course they knew about the stolen truck, and of course, as rumors were that the Taliban had been directly involved, the agency would give him a heads-up. Chang had done the math – this was no new Taliban operation, but part of their friend's ongoing plans, whatever those might be. Locating the stolen vehicle – piece of cake when you had full satellite access and knew in what general direction to look.

But on some point along that road, something had gone not as calculated. The road was empty, except for some public buses and a civilian car here and there. No sign of the transport.

Chang cursed through his teeth. He would have to search the entire area, from the point where he had the last visual contact almost up to their own base, a huge area, while the field team was probably waiting in the wrong place. This could take some time...

“Anything?”

Chang turned around. Sergeant First Class Daniel Fletcher, _Also Known As_ Smiley, stood in the door, carrying two steaming tea mugs, the band-aid on his right temple a visible reminder of the injury he took a few days ago.

“Nothing. That convoy has simply vanished into thin air.”

“Really?” Smiley sat the mugs down on Chang's desk and leaned in to take a better look at the screen, fondly placing one hand on Chang's shoulders. Chang threw a nervous look around, but they were alone in OPS. Not that their relationship was a secret at all; but somehow, Chang still felt uncomfortable with Smiley showing him public affection.

He started when the mouse pointer suddenly moved on its own; neither of them had touched the mouse. It went to the right side of the map, moving the satellite image just a little bit... and there was the transport, far more eastern than the simulations had suggested. And far, far away from the field team. _Dammit!_

It must have taken a turn right after he lost sight of them this morning and then stopped shortly after that on a parking lot where it was sitting now. But how the hell...?

“Did – did you see that?” He looked at Smiley, face gone white.

“Yeah.”

“Just to be sure, you didn't move the mouse, did you?”

“Nope.”

That could only mean one thing. They looked at each other, Chang eventually speaking it out. “Janus.”

“Fuck!” Smiley slapped a hand over his mouth, momentarily paralyzed, while Chang already sprang into action, starting to pull out plugs and forcefully shutting down the system. “Note that position and get it to Miller”, he hollered. “I deal with Janus.”

 

Captain Macready was furious. He always knew those spooks and hackers could not be trusted. Actually, there wasn't much Macready trusted at all besides what he could see with his own eyes – and shoot with his own gun. And now, those smart-asses had actually sent him and his team to the wrong place. He yelled at his soldiers to hurry the fuck up. The new location was a fifty-minutes ride from their position – at least. He'd have to have a serious talk with the Colonel once this was over. They really needed to locate that fucking enemy base – not only those few lousy FOB's they had found so far – and bomb the place to hell and back. End of story.

Cursing through his teeth, he sat down on the truck bed and tried to relax in the confined space. It didn't work out well.

When they arrived at their new destination, his back was sore and his mood as bad as could be. He climbed down from the truck gingerly and overlooked the place.

They were on a strip of the main road, shortly before it took a wide right turn downwards. About a hundred meters after that turn, a smaller access road to a parking lot branched off, hidden from their eyes by vegetation and rocks. About fifty meters from their current position, a steep rock rose up, overlooking the road and surely the parking lot, too. He would send the sniper team up there; Pritchard would have to tell if he could see enough, but he estimated that the angle should be okay. But they had to hurry up; there was no telling when the bad guys would finish their break.

“Fine, then”, he growled. “Time to get ready for kicking some ass.”

 

Transport B-22 Beta, this is B-22 Alpha, come in!”

“Alpha, this is Beta copying.” Vince Black, lazily sprawled out on the tanker’s co-driver’s seat, wasn't entirely sure why they stuck to those strange formal call signs. The boss always made sure nobody was listening in on their conversations; maybe Singh was a little paranoid. But then again, they couldn't really address each other with 'terrorist 1' to 'terrorist 10', could they?

“Beta, what's your position?”

“Still in place on Site A.”

“Roger that. We're on pre-planned route B, 45 minutes to go.”

“Looks like you’ll be home for lunch, then. Enemy movements?”

“Boss said they were in position on our route, but left in a hurry 50 minutes ago. Now most likely on route to your position.”

“He lured them out?”

“He didn't tell me. Somethings’ off, though. You watch your back, you hear me?”

“Sure. See you for dinner tonight. Beta, out.”

He settled back in his seat, throwing a brief look at the quiet parking lot. Stifling a yawn, he reached for the thermos on the empty seat next to him; he could really use some tea now.

Black blinked. For a split second, he thought he had seen some kind of reflection on an overhanging rock. If he'd be a sniper, he'd probably...

“Enemy inbound, everybody on their positions.” As usually, Marchenko’s dark, heavily accented voice was totally calm. Right now, he was sitting somewhere in the steep rock wall at the back of the parking lot, hidden under his optical camouflage, keeping watch. Black stretched himself briefly and grabbed his assault rifle from the empty driver’s seat.

“Victor? Report?”, he asked on the comms.

“Two trucks, ten guys, standard weapons as far as I can see. One big guy in an exo suit, their commander, I think. So far, they’re just standing there, making plans.”

“Alright, then.” He switched to the team channel. “Everybody in place? Party’s about to start.”

One by one, his twelve men – thirteen, including Marchenko – reported in. Silence fell over the parking lot, everybody calmly waiting for the enemy to make their move.

They didn’t have to wait long.

Out of nowhere, green fog materialized in the north-western corner of the parking lot where three of Black’s men had taken position behind a row of dumpsters. A well-placed gas grenade, probably shot from a grenade launcher. He heard the men cough and retch for a second before they dropped to the ground. So much for the welcoming committee. Well, a third of it.

On arriving at the parking lot two hours ago, they had parked their vehicles in a strategic formation: the tanker in the north-eastern corner, one side close to the steep rock wall forming a natural barrier along the entire northern side of the parking lot. One SUV was parked next to it, guarding its flank. The other two SUV’s were placed in front of them, overlooking the driveway. Thick vegetation shielded the parking lot’s southern side from the road. Although being on a slightly lower level than the road, Black was pretty sure they could hold the place for a while; at least, they would keep the enemy busy for quite some time, and that was all they had to do for now.

As Black brought himself in position next to the tanker, shielded by the SUV, he watched another one of his guys fall. Two of them had been sitting in the SUV right in front of the tanker, planning on taking the armoured doors as shields; but a round from a sniper rifle, telling from the thundering report, made the side window burst into thousands of sparkling pieces, right before traversing the man’s head. He hadn’t touched the ground yet when six TF29 operators, guarded by heavy mobile shields, stormed the parking lot, guns blazing. The sniper kept himself busy, too; another one of Black’s men, covered behind the second SUV, went down.

“Dammit”, Black cursed quietly. The TF29 guys were doing this like right out of the fucking textbook, taking no risks. He wondered if they would have recognized him. There was no telling; he couldn’t count on that. His best chance would be to wait out the fight and then ‘surrender’ to the TF29. And the fewer bad guys were left in the game, the sooner the fight would be over, right?

Right.

From his position in between the tanker on the left and the rock wall on the right side, he could see the driver of the first SUV, a guy called Hamid, shielded by the car and delivering heavy fire from his shotgun.

“Sorry, Hamid”, Black murmured and shot the man in the back of his head. Then he slowly crawled forwards, still shielded by the tanker. Peeking around the corner, he had a clean shot on two more of his men, hunched between the two SUV’s, answering fire from their assault rifles. He took aim.

Something moved at his side. He couldn’t see or hear anything, but feel it. Something made the fine hair on his arms stand up.

Out of thin air, a giant figure materialized right at his side.

“Fuck, Marchenko! I thought you’d still be up th-”

Without saying a word, Victor Marchenko placed his giant hands on Black’s neck and pressed. Black’s eyes widened in shock, his face turning dark red, then violet. Effortlessly, Marchenko crushed his windpipe and dropped Vincent Black to the ground like a broken toy.

 

Frank felt like a fish in the sea. He almost pitied the tangos down there in and around the cars, literally sitting ducks, patiently waiting for his well-placed head shots. He knew he shouldn’t do this, but every time a terrorist face showed up in his crosshairs, his mind replaced it with Jensen’s face. He watched in grim satisfaction as three Jensens went down, dark holes right between their eyes. There, number four.

Ka-boom.

He chambered another round and lifted his head, checking the battlefield for movements. Jensen – the real one - had stepped up to him as soon as the shooting begun, watching the surrounding closely through his binoculars – this time with attached heat scanner, Frank noticed.

“Got movement behind the tanker”, he announced, and Frank turned around to adjust his rifle.

The suppressing fire from Team 3 had ceased momentarily, and the tango apparently was taking his chance. There, just a little bit closer, out of that shadow...

“Pritchard, down, now!” He reacted instantly by dropping to his guts. When he turned around on his stomach, Jensen was gone, only a small distortion in the air announcing he had activated his optical camouflage.

“What's wrong, Jensen?”, he whispered into the Infolink.

“Someone's closing in on our position, fast”, came the subvocalized answer.

“Where?”

“Your eleven, cloaked.”

“You got him?”

“Yeah, just stay down.”

Crouching on his stomach, Frank took cover behind a rock, watching with baited breath as another distortion in the air came up the hillside, quickly coming closer.

“Come on, Jensen, you son of a bitch”, he muttered inwardly. The distortion was so close now that Frank's skin started tingling. Then, out of nowhere, an arm appeared in the air, reaching around it. Jensen's entire body dropped out of the cloaking as he used his full strength to strangle the attacker, who then lost his camouflage, too.

Frank's mouth fell open; the man was a giant, a monster of scarred muscles and brutal military augmentations. He rolled his shoulders, swatting Jensen's head and shaking him off his neck like an annoying bug.

Frank grabbed his handgun, a bulky .38 revolver, and took aim. His round hit the giant's upper arm, without causing much damage, but the impact distracted him long enough for Jensen to launch a new attack. Nanoblades on both arms extracted and reflex-booster activated, he leaped forward, one hand aiming for the head, the other one for the stomach. Frank still had his gun trained on the giant's head, but he didn't dare shooting; both he and Jensen were moving way too fast.

The giant blocked Jensen's left arm millimeters away from his head, but the deadly sharp blade scraped right across his forehead and cut through his left eye, while the second blade was rammed into his abdomen. He howled in pain and stumbled backwards, out of Jensen's reach. Frank fired his revolver again, and the giant went down, falling face-first into the dirt.

“Fuck!”, Jensen cursed, rubbing the spot on his forehead where the giant's hand had hit him. “Pritchard, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. What about him?” He pointed at the lying figure.

“I guess he's...”

Both their Infolinks crackled into life. “All teams, the fight is over.” Captain Macready. And really, the gunfire and screams down on the battlefield had ceased. “Repeat, the fight is over. Regroup on my position.”


	9. Ikarus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the attack on the tanker, all Adam wants is peace and quietness. But Doctor Auzenne has different plans...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably the darkest chapter of the story...  
> For translation of the German lyrics, see end notes.

_Wenn Du Dich verdrehst_  
 _und Dich selbst nicht verstehst_  
 _Lass mich einsam sein_  
 _Lass mich hier allein_  
 _Hier bin ich, wie ich bin_  
(Diary of Dreams – Ikarus)

 

“Lieutenant Jensen! Welcome, please, sit down!” Dr Delara Auzenne pointed on the examination table in the middle of the room.

“I prefer standing, thanks. What’s so urgent you had to call me in?” Adam feigned a noncommittal smile. When the doctor had contacted him five minutes ago, he had just been about to curl in on his cot. As the last remaining adrenaline from this morning's battle had left his body, he felt numb and cold. All he wanted to do right now was to sleep and forget reality for a while.

“You didn’t show up for your welcome check-up we had scheduled this morning.”

“Sorry, doc. I was on a mission, like the rest of the team.” Adam crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“I know, Lieutenant, this was no reproach. But since you’re off duty for now, I thought we could get this done with. Also, I wanted to check on your nose again.”

“My nose is fine.”

“Well, it’s my job to determine whether or not it’s fine. Sit down, please.” Her voice was firm, allowing no objects. Adam sighed and did as ordered.

“Now, look up”, she demanded, feeling up the bridge of his nose with cool hands. Adam inhaled sharply when she pressed on the bruise that was still visible there.

“Did that hurt?”

“Not really.” In fact, he welcomed the small sting breaking through his numbness.

“Alright.” She finished her examination. “Not broken, like I said yesterday, but seriously bruised. But I guess that’s nothing a tough guy like you can’t handle.” She smirked.

“Like I said, it’s fine.”

She nodded. “Now, would you be so kind and undress?”

“Undress?”

“Yes. I can’t do that check-up through your uniform.”

“Is this really necessary?”

“Yes, it is. What’s wrong? I didn’t take you for the shy type.”

“I’m not.”

“Great. Would you please proceed, then? Behind that screen over there you’ll find space to undress and store your clothes.”

Adam cursed inwardly and stepped behind the screen. As he undressed quickly, he heard her typing something into her computer.

When he returned to the examination table, naked like the day he was born (well, not really, since he wasn't born augmented), she swiveled around in her chair and smiled at him.

“Good, let’s get this done.” She stood, starting the examination by feeling his neck, pressing in spots under his lower jaw.

“How are you feeling, generally spoken?”, she asked while wandering to the back of his neck, inspecting the seams of the arm augmentations there.

“Great, nothing to complain about.”

“How’s your appetite?”

“Good, as usual.” That was a lie. His stomach was hurting more often than not, and the nausea that always accompanied his nightmares sometimes stayed throughout the entire day.

“Any problems with urination or defecation?”

“None.”

“Fine.” She stepped behind him, feeling down his spine. “How’s your sleep?”

“Like a baby.” A lie again, and Adam was glad he didn’t have to look her in the eye right now. In fact, he hadn’t had a single night of good sleep at all since – hell, since the cursed day that green-haired kid...

She stepped around him, now inspecting the ports and cables in his chest. “How’s your sexual appetite?”

He shrugged. “Normal, I guess. Haven’t been very active, lately.”

“You have a partner?”

“I... no.” Megan and the break-up were none of the doc’s business, Adam decided.

“Okay, then.” She sat down on her swivel chair, rolling up to him and feeling down his groin. Fortunately, her cool hands made quick work there.

“Good, so far.” She looked up at him. “Physically, you seem to be in good shape, I can’t find anything suspicious. There’s something I’d like to talk about, though, but you can get dressed for that.”

When Adam sat in front of her desk two minutes later, fully dressed again and a lot more comfortable, she gave him her warmest smile. A little too warm for Adam’s taste.

“Like I said, I think you’re good, physically spoken. Did you experience any issues with your augmentations? I’m no specialist for those, but I can wire you up for telemetry if necessary. We have a specialist back in Fort Bragg who can take care of you from there.”

“That won’t be necessary, everything is working perfectly fine. Good to know, though.”

“Sure.” She smiled again. “Now, what I wanted to talk about: I heard you experienced some kind of trauma recently.” She silenced, apparently waiting for his answer.

“So?”, Adam asked eventually.

“I – just wanted to know how you cope with it. I mean, the reports are quite dramatic. It must have been terrible, witnessing how the unit you have been in for years is wiped out right in front of your eyes.”

“It’s something I don’t need to experience again, so much is clear”, he answered softly while inwardly praying to anyone who might be listening for this to be over already.

“The report also says you refused to shoot the terrorist when you had the chance to do it.”

Adam huffed, anger bubbling up in his chest. “How often do I have to repeat this? That ‘terrorist’ was a damn kid!”

“It’s alright, Lieutenant”, Dr Auzenne appeased him. “I’m not questioning your decision. You did what you saw fit in a terrible situation. All I wanted to know is, do you feel guilty for what happened there?”

“I don’t.” A blatant lie. Again.

“Good. Good.” She nodded, typing something into her computer for a minute before looking back up at him. “But you still haven’t answered my question. How do you cope with the event?”

“By going on.”

A brief smile tugged at the corners of Dr Auzenne’s mouth. “Well, going on is always good. I took you as a pragmatist, Lieutenant, and it seems like I was right. But, you know, sometimes... Sometimes, the past just wouldn’t let you go on that easily. Sometimes, the ghosts of the past keep following us.”

“Haven’t seen any ghosts lately, doc.”

“Sorry, Lieutenant, but something makes me think you might have.” She leaned back in her chair, looking him right into the eye.

“How’s that?” It took him all of his remaining willpower to return the look.

“Getting into bar fights, for once?”

“Well, that wasn’t my idea.”

“But you did nothing to avoid it, either, did you?”

Adam was spared of answering as the speaker in the corner of the room crackled. “All officers to OPS, repeat, all officers to OPS.”

“Sorry, doc, that’s my call.”

“I see.” She nodded. “Well, we’ll have to continue that conversation another day.”

_Not if I can avoid it_ , he thought. Loudly, he said with a polite smile: “Sure. Good day, Doctor Auzenne.”

 

When Adam arrived at OPS, Captain Macready was already there, casually sprawled in a chair and discussing something with the Sergeants Chang and Fletcher. Adam sat down next to them, glad that he escaped the doctor, but still yearning for the quietness of his bunk, away from _people._

Pritchard arrived half a minute after Adam, nodded at him curtly and sat down on the edge of a console, ignoring the free chair next to Adam.

A minute later, Colonel Miller came from his office into OPS. His team sprang to their feet and saluted, which he answered with a brief salute. “At ease, ladies and gentlemen”, he started, tapping the big video screen at the head of the room. A photograph of one of the men they had encountered this morning appeared.

“This man”, Miller continued, “is the late Special Agent Vincent Black, CIA. He was working undercover in our friend’s organization and fell this morning during our attack on the tanker.”

The operator sitting next to Macready, Master Sergeant Vazquez if Adam remembered him correctly, groaned. “So, who’s the poor soul who shot one of us?”

“None of you, Master Sergeant”, Miller answered with a half-smile. “Curious enough, he wasn’t shot. The medical team has orders to perform a proper autopsy, which will take some time, but a brief inspection showed that he was strangled.”

Pritchard frowned. “Strangled? In the middle of a firefight?”

Miller nodded. “I've seen the bruises on Black's neck myself. Whoever did it must have really big hands.”

“That giant Lieutenant Pritchard and I encountered sure had big hands”, Adam chimed in, unconsciously rubbing the spot on his forehead where said hands had hit him.

“Maybe, but unfortunately, we were not able to find that giant's body.”

The frown on Pritchard's face grew even bigger. “How's that? Anyone who came up the hill where we were positioned must have practically tripped over him!”

“Maybe he wasn't as dead as you thought, Lieutenant?”, Miller offered.

“I shot him _right into the fucking head!_ ”

“No reason to shout, Lieutenant. However, the guy managed to escape, or someone of his friends picked him up while you were regrouping. Back to Agent Black.”

Pritchard nodded, obviously not satisfied. “So, the Agent got his cover blown?”

“We don’t know that, but it’s likely. Intel team”, he nodded at Chang and Fletcher, “is still working on his phone. Sergeant Chang, can you give us an update on what you found so far?”

“Sure.” Chang nodded and went up. “Agent Black had hardly any personal belongings with him, neither on his body nor in the cars.” He tapped the screen. A new picture appeared, showing the few items they had found. “His assault rifle, Russian standard issue without mods. We already figured our friends got their stuff from Mother Russia. 10mm pistol in a holster at the small of his back, also Russian model. A combat knife – this seems to be his personal item, it’s a U. S. Marine Corps knife with his initials engraved, hidden in his boots. Apart from that, keys”, he pointed at the picture. “They belong to the tanker. Last but not least, his phone. Not a disposal one, as you might expect, but a high-end model, heavily encrypted. Sergeant Fletcher and I are still working on hacking into it, but this might take some time. Well, that’s about it.” He sat back down.

“Thank you.” Miller nodded. “Now, as you might think a dead CIA agent is bad news, it’s getting worse. Captain Macready, would you tell us what you found inside the tanker?”

Macready didn’t bother with getting up. “Sure. We found nothing.”

“Nothing?”, Vazquez asked.

“Exactly. It was empty.”

“That means...”

“Yes, Master Sergeant.” Miller smiled grimly. “The enemy has set up a nice, sophisticated trap, and we ran right into it. We got lucky that none of us got seriously injured – or worse – today.”

“But why?” Pritchard shifted on the console.

“We think it might have been a distraction. Whatever our friends were transporting today, it wasn’t in that convoy.”

“Sir?”

“Yes, Lieutenant Jensen?”

“I’m here for almost a week now, and I still have no idea who ‘our friends’ actually are or what they want. I’d really like to know who the guys were we shot this morning.”

“Fair enough.” Miller nodded. “Sergeant Fletcher, would you?”

“Sure.” Fletcher stood up, flashing Adam a broad smile. “It’s a little complicated, though. Their organization has no name, official or unofficial, that’s why we keep referring to them as ‘our friends’. They hide among the local Taliban, even use some of their supply routes and other resources, but they have nothing to do with their ideologies or Islam whatsoever. We believe they’re part of a much bigger, extremely well organized and funded group.”

“How big?”

“World-scale big. Old. Really old. Powerful as hell. Entirely clandestine.”

“You’re not going to tell me about Freemasons, Illuminati and bullshit like that.”

Silence fell over the room.

“Really?” Adam rose an eyebrow.

“Really.” Fletcher nodded. “Trust me, they’re real.”

“And what business does an ancient secret organization have in the middle of the Afghan desert?”

“That’s the question. We have reason to believe they’re planning some kind of attack, but we have no idea where. Only that it’s going to happen soon.” He typed something into the tablet computer he held in hands, then tapped the big screen. The photograph of a man, middle-eastern in his appearance and middle-aged, appeared.

“Two years ago, the CIA planted a mole in this specific branch of the organization. His name is Special Agent Arun Singh. He’s deep cover, no contact under any circumstances. However, he reports to the CIA every once in a while, and those reports have become increasingly worrying. The head of the branch is only known as ‘boss’, nobody has ever met him – or her, for all we know – personally. The boss’s organization is not very big, but extremely well organized and disciplined. Their main task seems to be information control; until a little more than two years ago, they acted only online. But then something changed, we don’t know what, and the Ghost in the Machine somehow went corporeal. The CIA decided to plant yet another mole to get answers – the one that’s lying now on the autopsy table. Whatever they’re planning, they mean business.”

 

When Miller had ended the meeting, Adam stayed behind, struck by what he just had learned. When he looked up from his chair, Pritchard was also still sitting on his console, massaging his temples. He looked terrible, his skin all pale, dark bags almost swallowing his eyes. Slowly, Adam went over to him.

“Pritchard?”

“What?”, the sniper snapped at him.

“Are you okay?”

“What do you want, Jensen?”

“Nothing, I... You just don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine. Now, would you be so kind and leave me the fuck alone?”

“Pritchard, I’m sorry, I just want to...”

“Leave – me – the FUCK – alone!”, Pritchard hissed.

Adam felt something inside him _snap_. Nothing he could have explained, it simply felt as if someone had switched off the last remaining light in his soul. The gates of the void opened up, spilling darkness over him. His legs started running on their own account, out of the cave, across the main cavern, away from Pritchard, away from _people_ , trying to run away from himself, failing.

When he tripped over a stone in his blind haste and almost fell, he took a look around, searching for a place to hide, finding himself outside the shooting range.

The door stood open. Adam stumbled inside, quickly making sure he was alone, and closed the door after himself, then stumbled forward into the storage room. His eyes were burning, but not with tears, they were as dry as the land outside the cave. He sank down on the floor, trembling and shivering all over his body. There was a hole in his chest, empty and dark, burning at the same time with a fire that _hurt_ , hurt so much he couldn’t bear it. The trembling intensified, he was stunned, unable to move, just trembling and shivering, thoughts slowing down, his mind shutting off like a malfunctioning computer.

What was happening? Was he losing his mind?

Time slowed down and lost its meaning.

Adam felt numb, like watching himself lying there on the cold concrete floor, seeing and hearing, but unable to act. He gave in and let it happen. There was nothing else he could have done. He closed his eyes. Quietness surrounded him like a cloak, standing in sharp contrast to the screaming pain in his chest.

How would it feel to die here and now, he wondered. What if he just never again went up from where he was lying now? Would it be as merciful as he pictured it?

The voices in his head were not merciful.

Megan telling him that he was a coward. Then laughing at him and disappearing into the shadows.

Pritchard calling him an egocentric asshole.

His comrades, burnt and torn into pieces, yet screaming for him to save them.

The green-haired kid calling him an idiot, then laughing and pulling the trigger.

The world going white.

 

He had no idea how long he had been lying there. Eventually, his painfully cold and sore back registered into his mind. He tried to move his hands; slowly, they obeyed his commands. Gathering everything that was left from his willpower, he sat up, rubbing his eyes. To his surprise, they were not dry anymore. Like somebody had opened the flood gates, tears started running down his face. He rested his head on his knees and simply let them out. He didn’t care about someone finding him in this state of mind; he had no power left to care.

For months, his world had slowly come apart, piece by piece, and he had just carried on, acting like he was fine, fighting proxy wars for others, consistently drowning out the voices that were now screaming in his chest, making him listen at last.

Yes, he was hurt.

Yes, he was traumatized.

Yes, he had screwed up and managed to hurt people he cared about.

Yes, he was a mess.

Fuck.

He didn’t know what to do with that.

But he wouldn’t give up. No, he decided. Somehow, he’d –

 

He jerked when the alarm started blaring, loud and urgent.

“Everybody in defense positions!”, the speaker screamed. “Repeat, everybody in defense positions! Enemy movement on the perimeter!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of the lyrics:
> 
> When you twist yourself  
> And don't understand yourself  
> Let me be lonely  
> Leave me alone here  
> Here I am how I am


	10. Spiders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Special Agent Singh gets a promotion.

_Through my head,_  
 _Before you know,_  
 _Before you know I will be waiting all awake_   
(System of a Down - Spiders)

 

“Mr Singh, good to see you.” The emotionless face on the screen nodded at him. “I get it that the package arrived safely?”

“Indeed. We arrived an hour ago without a hitch; we lost contact with the Beta team, though.”

“The Beta team was attacked by the enemy and defeated. The men are dead or captured.”

Singh swallowed. “Well, I guess that was part of the plan?”

“Yes, it was. The men were expendable. All they had to do was to buy you time and place the Trojan Horse, and that they did.”

“By ‘Trojan Horse’ you mean the tanker?”

“Actually, no. I meant the enemy spy, Vincent Black. His cellphone, that is.”

“So, he really was working for the enemy? You had proof of that?”

“I had.”

“And...” he chose his next words very carefully. “We're clean now? Any indications for other possible spies?”

“None that I'm aware of.”

“Alright. But maybe we should check our channels of recruitment for the future to avoid events like this.”

“Do as you see fit”, the boss agreed. “However, Black came in handy this time.”

“You bugged his phone?”

“Yes. Sophia has orders to track it; she is doing so as we’re speaking. I believe we’ll be finally able to locate the enemy base that way.”

Singh cursed inwardly. The boss sure was the coldest, most calculating individual (or group of individuals?) he’d ever come across. Sure, Black had been a pain in the ass most of the time, but dammit, he was young, not much more than a kid, and he had been one of the good guys. At least he had been supposed to be. There were times when he definitely had too much fun with what they were doing.

Outwardly, he feigned a smile and nodded. “It’s about time. Would be a good thing to have TF29 out of the way before commencing the final phase.”

“Exactly.” The boss’s face changed from the black male into a bald white female. “Well, you did great, not only with bringing in the package, but also with the preparations beforehand and with handling your team. You have earned yourself a promotion.”

“Well – thank you?” Singh asked carefully.

“Since Marchenko has been seriously injured, from now on you’ll take his place as my first Lieutenant for the operations to come. You’ll have full command authority over the operational units. Of course, this will also affect your payment.”

He nodded briefly. “Thanks for trusting me, boss. I won’t disappoint you.”

“Of course you won’t.” The face changed again, this time into an Asian male. “Now, I think it is time to tell you something more about the target for the final phase.”

“That would help a lot”, Singh smirked. “Would be good to know where to aim the package.”

“Your aim will be Surat, India.”

“Never heard of th- wait, isn’t this where the World Internet Council is based?”

“Exactly.”

“I guess that’s our target, then?”

“Yes. In three days, the entire UN’s Information Ministers will come together there to ratify a certain, Top Secret treaty.”

“What kind of treaty?”

“That’s not of importance for your mission. Just make sure to hit the council with full force.”

“Will do. That place will disappear from the face of the earth.”

“Good. Is there anything else you need from me, Mr Singh?”

“Actually... I wondered if there is a chance to meet you in person? I mean, if I’m gonna nuke an entire city for you, I’d like to know who you are.” He knew the chances of the boss agreeing were slim to none, but he felt that his mission would soon be over. He had to gather as much intel as he could for the time being.

The answer was as expected. “I'm sorry, Mr Singh. That is not possible.”

 

“Arun?”  
Sophia Donatelli, _Also Known As_ BlackWidow99, stood in the open door of his office, softly knocking onto the frame. Singh startled out of his thoughts. Although he claimed to have no problems with spiders, Sophia's strange hand augmentations always unsettled him; for hacking purposes, each hand had eight long, thin fingers, not unlike spider legs. Spiderweb tattoos covered her arms; her sleeveless shirt revealed a big tarantula decorating her left shoulder. He stifled a yawn and, massaging his hurting temples, turned around to her.

“What can I do for you, Sophia?”

“Actually, I got something for you”, she smirked. “I've been tracking Vince Black's phone. A pity he's gone, by the way; I liked him.”

“Yeah, me too.” The sad shadow flitting across Singh's face was not feigned.

“Anyway: I traced the phone to a location about 65 kilometers from our position. On the first look, there's nothing but rocks and dust.”

“And on the second look?”

“Well, there's a lot of caves and caverns in those mountains.”

“Big enough to hide an entire military base?”

“You'd bet your ass.” Her smirk returned, even wider this time.

“And?” Singh encouraged her.

“Aaand... I got the key to their front door, in a manner of speaking.”

“You went into their security grid?”

“Yup. Using the phone as proxy, it wasn't even that hard.”

“Well – good job!” Singh went up and stretched his sore back. “Does the boss already know?”

“Yes, I told him before I came to you. You have orders to move ASAP and send the TF29 to hell. Oh, and he has ordered the Tyrants to back you up.”

 

When Sophia was gone, Singh dropped back into his chair. “Fuck!”, he hissed through clenched teeth. Too damn soon! There was no way of warning TF29 in time without blowing his cover. He'd have to play along as long as possible and hope those guys did their homework.

He grabbed his assault rifle and stormed out of the tiny office.


	11. Resist and Bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The TF29 base is under attack.

_War is coming swiftly_  
_The borders closing in_  
_We're a company of soldiers_  
_Mere forty rifles strong_

__

(Sabaton – Resist and Bite)

 

Adam groaned and sprang to his feet. Fresh adrenaline was shooting into his veins, chasing away the darkness in his mind. At least for now.

His personal gun was stored away in his tent, and he would have to get it, since on the shooting range were only training guns and ammo. When he left the small building, he found that the entire base was on their feet. Right then, he noticed that he had no idea what the protocols were in case of an attack. In any case, he would have to find Pritchard.

First things first, he decided, running for his tent.

When he opened the entrance tarp, he found Pritchard standing inside, gearing up. His face seemed a little flushed, and his ponytail was messed up.

“You been taking a nap?”, Adam asked, retrieving his gun and some spare clips from his personal chest.

“Yes. I took the chance since there was nobody here to disturb me.”

“Fair enough.”

“Anyway; what's going on out there?” Pritchard slammed a fresh magazine into his sniper rifle before strapping it to his back.

“No idea. I was hoping you could tell me that?”

“No, got woken up by the alarm. But you were outside, weren't you?”

Adam checked the clock in his HUD. _Shit_ , the meeting in OPS had been almost two hours ago. How long had he been-

“I was... busy. At the shooting range. Doing some practice.”

“Good for you”, Pritchard sneered, and Adam decided not to answer to that. Instead, he asked: “So, what do we have to do now? Go to the gathering points?”

“You don't know the protocol?”

“No. Do you?”

“Of course, I...”  
They were interrupted by the comms. “Proximity alarm, imminent attack!”, not announced by the usual calm and eerily friendly computer voice, but by Sergeant Chang, sounding thoroughly terrified.  
Wordlessly, they ran out of the tent. Strange enough, the elevator at the far end was moving downwards, but it was empty.

“Come on, to OPS”, Pritchard hollered.

They ran into Captain Macready halfway. “Pritchard, Jensen, they're coming through the tunnel. You know that maintenance shaft over there?” He pointed at the cave walls behind the sanitary barrack.

“I do”, Pritchard answered.

“Get in there, both of you, climb up the ladder inside. It will lead you to the catwalk up there. Fire on anything that comes out of the tunnel. My teams will position around the entrance and do the same.”

“Copy that!” Pritchard ran off, and Adam followed him.

The entry to said maintenance shaft was a nondescript steel door. Adam and Pritchard hasted inside and across the small storage room. The ladder Macready had talked about was on the far end of the room and led them 15 meters up. At the top, another steel door brought them to a narrow walkway constructed of steel grid.

“Dammit, I don't like this”, Pritchard said. “We'll be sitting ducks up here without decent cover. I don't like saying this, but this time I need you. I'll need serious covering fire.”

“Got it.” Adam simply nodded and started checking his augs while Pritchard set up the bipod for his rifle on the railing.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!” Sergeant Chang screamed and slammed his fists into the table, hard enough to leave a crack. His partner, Sergeant Fletcher, lifted his hands helplessly.

“I'm a hundred percent with you, but right now, screaming won't help!”

“Yeah, no shit. But until I find a constructive solution – fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

“Did you figure out yet how they came in?”

“I have a suspicion”, Chang grumbled and threw an angry look at Vince Black's phone, sitting all innocent on his desk. “But that won't help now as they are in.”

“How can I help you, Pete?”

“We need to regain control over the system, one by one. Cameras and comms first, so that our guys down there won't have to fight blindly.”

“Copy that, I'm on it.” Smiley darted to his personal computer terminal ahead from Chang's, happy to be out of his lover's line of wrath.

 

“Everybody get ready”, Arun Singh spoke into his comms. Driving in three Armored Personal Carriers, each carrying ten operators, they had almost reached the lower end of the tunnel. So far, things had gone damn smooth, almost too smooth for his taste. The three heavily augmented mercenaries the boss had sent along, calling themselves 'The Tyrants', had cleared the way for the heavy vehicles by soundlessly eliminating the guards on the perimeter. That done, the Black Widow had opened the gates for them, and they had entered the long descent into the cave. Their sensors told them that they didn't have to expect guard activity in the tunnel itself, but the base down there had suddenly come to life. Most likely, Sophia's hack had finally been detected. _Took them long enough_ , Singh thought. Room for improvement here.

 

“... aaand – cameras are back online!”, Smiley declared. “I see the Captain and his team, there is the tunnel, and there... oh, FUCK!” He activated his Infolink. “Captain, get outta there, now! Tangos are coming down in APC's, roof guns armed! They'll shoot you into pieces!”

He saw Captain Macready on the camera feed balling his fists. “Dammit!”, he cursed in response and switched to the team channel. “All teams, fall back! Regroup on me behind the mess hall! Pritchard, can you take out those gunners?”

“ _Does the pope shit_ \- yeah, I'm on it”, came the snarky answer.

Smiley watched the field operators leaving their positions close to the tunnel, and not a second too soon. The first of the APC's came through, simply knocking over the barrier. The gunner at the roof gun sprayed his .52 rounds generously in a wide arc across the cave. Master Sergeant Vazquez, who had been covering his retreating comrades, screamed and stumbled as he took a round in the leg. His teammate, Corporal Yang, turned around to him and started dragging him into cover, arms hooked into his armpits. They had almost reached the corner of the building when another round made Vazquez's chest explode. Yang screamed, dragging his already dead friend into cover. He grabbed his assault rifle and started firing at the gunner. The man dropped and his gun ceased, but Yang was pretty sure it hadn't been his shot as the gunner had been guarded by a heavy shield. Out of the corner of his eye, Yang saw two figures up on the maintenance bridge. The sniper team, praise to the God of War.

Meanwhile, all three APC's were out of the tunnel and had come to a halt next to each other, forming a half circle and laying heavy fire over the cave. Captain Macready appeared at Corporal Yang's side, peeking around the corner. 

A round from Pritchard's sniper rifle, unheard due to the heavy gunfire, dropped the second roof gunner, and a few seconds later the third. Sudden silence fell over the cave, but not for long. The rear doors of all three APC's flew open, spitting out at least thirty tangos, guns at the ready and yelling commands.

“Bloody sons of bitches”, Macready cursed. He reached into his web gear for a frag grenade and tossed it at the first group of enemies, sending them to the ground, at least three of them dead or injured.

“Alright, guys”, he barked into the Infolink. “Two-man teams, Team One and Two as usual, One to the sanitary barrack, Two at the entrance to OPS, Yang, Dennison, stay with me at the mess hall. Take good cover, no false heroism, shoot on sight. Same goes for the backup team and any other personnel able to fire a gun. Those assholes may have made it in here – let's make sure they'll leave feet first!”

“Hooya!”, came the reply from his men and women.

 

Arun Singh waited until the vehicle was empty, then grabbed his gun and followed his men. An exploding frag grenade shattered the ground around him and made him drop to his guts. Hot shrapnel pierced into his forearm; he cursed through clenched teeth and took cover under the APC. He threw a short look at his arm. The wound wasn't deep. He would have to suck it up for now. Carefully, he crouched forward. When the shooting had started, he had seen at least two soldiers at the corner of the wooden barrack closest to his position; now they were gone, most likely taking position somewhere with better cover. He crouched out from under the vehicle, took a deep breath and ran to the building. As presumed, the side of the building was clear. He walked to the next corner and peeked around it.

Right into the muzzle of a heavy rifle.

He knew that big man with the scar across his face.

Dropping his gun, he slowly raised his arms. “Captain Macready, right?”

“Right. Who are you?”

“Special Agent Arun Singh, CIA.”

A ricocheting round struck into the wooden wall, centimeters from Singh's face, and made them both hunch down.

“Agent Singh. I knew I'd seen your face before. What are you doing here?”, Macready shouted over the thundering gunfire.

“I need to speak to your commander. Colonel Miller, right?”

“The commander is busy right now. You might have noticed that we're under attack.”

“Yeah, sorry for that. Your men are doing a good job, though. Now, where's the colonel?”

“Up there in his office.” Macready pointed out with his thumb. “I'll let my guys know you're coming.”

“Thanks. Oh, and you might want to look out for cloaked enemies.”

 

Colonel Miller opened the window of his office, the one overlooking the cave, a tiny crack, just wide enough for the muzzle of his sniper rifle. He hadn't used this baby in combat for years, but regular training made sure he still was on the same level as his operators. Years ago, he would have bested anyone of them, including Lieutenant Pain-in-the-ass Pritchard. But today, he was not unhappy to have said Lieutenant sitting over there on the bridge and taking out the big guns. However, he would support his men and women down there with everything he got.

Right now, Team 1, covered behind the sanitary building, was lying under heavy fire from five tangos.

“Ugly little fuck”, Miller muttered as the guy closest to his men appeared in his crosshairs. He squeezed the trigger and watched how the tango was hurled backwards, his head exploding in a pink cloud. He adjusted his rifle by a few centimeters, aiming at the next tango, but his men on the ground were faster. A three-rounds burst from Master Sergeant Halliday's assault rifle dropped the man.

“Well done, Master Sergeant”, Miller said to himself and turned his gun around, looking for the next tango.

A knock at the door almost made him jump. He turned around at the intruder.

“Agent Singh!”, he greeted him in relief as he recognized the man. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Deep Cover?”

“Yeah, well, my cover is just blowing to shit down there. I'm defecting.”

“In that case – welcome!” Miller smirked at him. “Though, if those tangos down there are your souvenir, I must say I don't like it.”

Singh chuckled. “Yeah, they're not exactly my taste, either. But no, they found you by themselves. Got a nasty little hacker on their payroll, she's responsible for this.”

Miller nodded. “I see. Well, my intel officers are not exactly hackers, but they have a few tricks on their hands, too. I think they'll handle the situation. But enough small talk. My people are in trouble down there.”

“How can I help?”

“Cover my ass. And tell me if we have to expect more tricks.”

“Yeah, about that...”

 

Adam couldn't help it, he had to admire Pritchard's precision. Roughly estimated, he had dropped more enemies in the past three minutes than the other operators down on the ground combined. He really had earned his title. His cool composure somehow rubbed up on Adam; he noticed that he felt way better than an hour ago, despite the firefight raging around them. Or maybe just because of that. Adrenaline, combined with something to fully focus on, always had done him good.

Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Something was there, on the elevator platform. He grabbed his binoculars and, as he didn't see anyone, switched to thermal view.

“Oh, fuck!”, he hissed.

“Huh?” Pritchard didn't move his eyes from the battlefield.

“Two camouflaged targets, fast-roping down the elevator shaft.”

“Mark them and tell Macready.”

“Copy that.” He activated his Infolink. “Captain? Got two heavily augmented targets coming down the elevator shaft, camouflaged.”

“Yeah, I know”, was the terse reply. “Miller just told me. Do what you can to keep them away from our guys.”

“Roger that.”

He went back to his binoculars. Meanwhile, the targets had reached the ground. Adam could only see their outlines in the thermal image; one was a huge, bulky man, the other one appeared to be female, on elegantly curved leg augmentations.

“Shit. One is coming for us, Pritchard. Got to take care of him”, he told the sniper as the big guy rapidly closed in on their position.

“Get him, I'm fine for now.”

Adam raised his gun, just when the catwalk under his feet shook. The big aug had simply jumped up to their position. As he came running towards Adam, he deactivated his cloak. He was big, almost two meters, Adam estimated, a mean package of muscles and heavy augmentations, wearing a crew cut and a broad golden ring in his septum. A modern-days Minotaur, Adam thought for a second.

The guy shook his arm, revealing a minigun augmentation, already pointed at Adam. From his appearance, Adam concluded that he would have heavy dermal shields, too; his lousy assault rifle would do shit to that guy. Time to get creative.

He activated his own camouflage and leaped upwards, landing on a small ledge two meters above the catwalk. The big enemy threw searching looks around, well aware of Adam's move, but having lost sight of him. Instead of searching, he went for the easy target: the uncovered sniper, still aiming at the battlefield below.

“Frank!”, Adam yelled. This time, Pritchard did turn around, seeing the augmented beast storming at him. He swung his rifle around and fired blindly. His round hit the man square in the chest, with enough force to send him stumbling backwards. That gave Adam time to leap at him, Nanoblades extracted. He landed on his chest and pressed a blade to his throat while the second one dug deep into his stomach, but the guy had enough energy left in his augmentations to jump back to his feet, throwing Adam off in the process. Pritchard fired at him again, and this time the force of the shot threw him to the side and over the railing.

Adam didn't bother with getting to his feet; he just rolled under the railing and followed his opponent the fifteen meters down. His Icarus Landing System absorbed the fall easily, and he landed in a three-point stand.

The assailant had landed a few meters away from him on his back, way less soft. Apparently, Adam and Pritchard had caused enough damage to his systems to cause a malfunction, as he surely would have had something akin to Adam's Icarus aug. The guy could barely lift his head, blood was dripping out of the corner of his mouth. Nonetheless, he grinned at Adam devilishly. As he followed his gaze, he noticed that they had landed close to the elevator platform. A barrel of motor oil stood at the side. The man aimed his minigun-arm at it.

For a split second, Adam had a vision of what would come next: the explosion, the stink of burning gasoline, the screams, the heat burning his skin.

No.

Not today.

He activated the Reflex Booster, slowing down time to a syrup-thick stream.

Extracted the Nanoblades.

Leaped for his opponent's arm.

Cut if off with a clean slice.

Turned on his heel.

Rammed his other arm's blade into the man's mouth that had opened in shock.

Only stopped when the blade had traversed his skull and scraped on the rocky ground.

He released the used blades and took a second to catch a breath. The assailant was dead, so much was clear. Blood was pooling under his head, and the severed minigun-arm was laying half a meter away from his body like a lost toy.  
“Jensen!”, Pritchard called on the Infolink. “Move your ass up here, gonna need cover!”

 

The sound of bursting glass threw Colonel Miller off focus.

“What the-” he turned around to the source of the noise. Through the window in his office door he could see that the glass of the big window in OPS, overlooking the cave, was gone, but he couldn't make out what had it destroyed. “That one of them?”, he asked Singh.

“Pretty sure. The woman, Fedorova, if I had to guess.”

“What now?”

“Get down!”

They both hunched down behind Miller's desk.

“Any ideas?”, Miller asked as they heard someone tampering with the door.

“She's relaying on her high-end augs, makes her sensitive for EMP.”

“Great. You happen to carry an EMP-grenade with you?”

“Nope.”

Miller reached for the top drawer in his desk. “Then this will have to do the trick”, he whispered, producing a stun pistol.

Singh frowned. “This means you'll have to get close-”

The door flew open, but all they could see was a soft distortion in the air coming through.

Carefully, Miller peeked around the desk, noticing the distortion was coming closer rapidly. He held his breath and counted to three, then fired the stun gun at where he estimated her chest would be.

He hit. Her camouflage flickered and turned off, revealing her shape, long and slender, heavily augmented in a very sleek, elegant style. If anything, the slight sting of electricity only made her angry. She was so close to Miller that he could feel the heat radiating from her augs; too close for her to use her integrated shotgun, the recoil would have damaged it. Instead, she kicked at him with her razor-sharp leg, drawing a burning line across his chest. Miller groaned and fired at her again blindly.  
She jerked back and screamed in pain, but she was still standing. The air around her rustled with electricity as she camouflaged herself again, and the next thing Miller knew, she was firing her gun at him from the other side of the room.

Waves of pain hit him with full force. He fell back, hands covered in blood where he pressed them to his chest. Sickening darkness fell down on him, only interrupted by a single gunshot. The last thing he saw was Fedorova going down, a hole in the back of her head where Singh had shot her.


	12. Ruins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the attack on the base, TF29 learns more about their enemie's plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... here comes the part y'all have been waiting for... To be honest, the last scene of this chapter is pure self-indulgence (and a treat for y'all for sticking with me so long). I hope I didn't go too far out of character with our boys!

_Here in ruins life still grows_   
_Here in ruins, a blooming rose_   
_Here in ruins love remains_   
_We will rise again_

(Lord of the Lost – Ruins)

 

When the sounds of the battle finally had died down, the survivors assessed the damage.

All in all, Captain Macready found, it could have gone far worse. The casualties on their side were bad enough: seven members of the guard team – four had been on patrol on the perimeter when the intruders came in – and two of his operators. Corporal Connor Fisher and Master Sergeant Rico Vazquez. Colonel Miller was in a critical state, momentarily undergoing surgery by Doctor Auzenne and her team. Staff Sergeant Aria Argento had suffered a serious abdominal wound, she would be next on the operating table. Macready himself had broken his arm during hand-to-hand combat with one of the assailants; he had it in a cast and a sling and felt a little bit like floating around the cave due to a decent dose of painkillers. Everything else were minor injuries.

All in all, it really could have gone worse. His sniper team – and the colonel himself – had done a lot to prevent more damage. On the enemy side, fifteen had been killed, ten were seriously injured, and the rest had surrendered. The two heavily augmented operators being killed plus Chang and Smiley eventually regaining control over the security grid and sending in three heavy box guards had turned the tides of the battle in favor of the TF29. The third of the mercenaries calling themselves the Tyrants, however, had managed to escape; later, Singh told them that one was the head of the crew, an Israeli called Namir.

 

The next morning, right after breakfast time, Captain Macready gathered his officers in OPS. Agent Singh was at his side when he saluted his men and women and started the debriefing.

“First of all, I want to thank every single person in this room. Maybe you understand now why the Colonel and I forced you to train so hard. The enemy we had to face yesterday was, like we always told you, well-trained and well-equipped. We have suffered several losses, but we stood up to them and stopped them. Thank you for your hard work and your courageous engagement.” He saluted, and his officers answered the salute.

“Now”, Macready continued when everybody had taken seat, “after the match is before the match. As soon as we've finished the clean-up here and have our stuff back together, we'll be facing a new mission. Probably our final mission. Special Agent Singh here has joined us yesterday, finishing his undercover mission. Agent Singh, please tell us in short what you've learned.”

“Sure.” Singh stood up, smiling at the gathered soldiers. “Well, my mission lasted more than two years, but I'll do my best to keep it short.”

Some of the officers laughed awkwardly.

“Most important: They are getting ready for their very own end game as we're speaking. Yesterday's attack was part of that; the goal had been to put you folks out of the way. Well, fortunately they failed, but that won't stop them.”

He turned around, switching on the video screen. A picture of a missile on a mobile launch pad appeared. “This, ladies and gentlemen, is the Ghauri Hatf-V Intermediate Range Missile, constructed for and used by the Pakistan military. Having a range of more than 1500 kilometers, covering that distance in about 12 minutes, the Ghauri can be equipped with various conventional warheads”, he paused for a second, “or with a nuclear warhead.”

His announcement had the desired effect; total silence fell over the room.

“The Ghauri has been constructed during the 1990's, and today they are one by one replaced by more modern missiles. Also, due to the latest anti-nuclear treaty of the United Nations, Pakistan is drastically reducing the number of its nuclear warheads. Last week, one of those babies was scheduled for deconstruction. It had been in place on a remote mountain base, only a handful of people within the Pakistan army knew about that special one. It had been part of a Top Secret emergency defense plan against Israel. Well, I don't know exactly how, but the bad guys knew about that one – and about the deconstruction schedule. They were able to capture it and transported it to a secret destination yesterday.”

“That means...”, Pritchard begun, “our friends have a nuke and plan on using it shortly?”

“Exactly.” Singh nodded. “And they won't use it as a deterrence or leverage. They will fire it.”

“Where?” All eyes were on Singh.

“India. The World Internet Council, Surat.”

 

“There you are, Pritchard. I’ve been looking for you.”

Pritchard put his VR goggles and the training rifle down. “And that would be why?”

“I – I wanted to talk to you.” Unease pooled in Adam's stomach, stirring up the familiar nausea.

“I don’t think there is anything we’d have to talk about.” Pritchard turned back around, shoving the goggles over his eyes again.

“Pritchard – Frank – please.”

“I thought I made myself clear.”

“You did. And I thought I’d be okay with living with the consequences. But... well, apparently, I’m not.”

Pritchard sighed and put the goggles aside. “Look, Jensen, I’m grateful that you had my back yesterday. Honestly, if you hadn’t been there, that big guy would have killed me before I even knew he was there. But don’t you think I’d forget your latest asshole move over one good deed.”

“No, I won’t think that. It's just...”

He searched for the right words. Actually, he wasn't even sure why he tried talking to Pritchard again. He just had the need to... to do something right, after all. Now that the last remainders of combat high were out of his system, the darkness that tied him to the very floor he was now standing on again threatened to return. He could feel it coiling in his stomach and tingling in his fingertips, and the sheer intensity terrified him. The green-haired kid and Megan were out of reach, but Pritchard was right here before him. He had to do this right, just this one single time.

“... it's just, I can't bear this. You being mad at me, that is.”

“Boo-hoo”, Pritchard snapped. “You can't stand this? So, it's all about you again, isn't it?”

“No, it's... I don't want you to feel bad because of me.”

“Well, I don't feel bad. I'm fucking _furious_!” He tossed the training gun to the ground to emphasize his words. Adam made a step back and slowly lifted his hands.

“Is there anything I can do to make you – less furious?”

“You can get the fuck outta here and leave me in peace!”

Adam inhaled sharply. The tingling sensation in his fingers spread up through his forearms. “That's the one single thing I won't do”, he replied as calmly as possible. “I won't leave until this is settled.”

“Make yourself comfortable, then”, Pritchard laughed joylessly. “Because you'd probably spend the rest of your life in here.”

“Pritchard, please. Just – give me something, anything really, to work with.”

Something snapped in Pritchard, he could hear it. “Alright, I'm gonna give you something to think about!”, the sniper growled and slapped Adam right into the face. “That enough?”

Adam gasped in shock, but recovered quickly. After all, he could take much more than that. “No. Don't you think you can scare me away so easily.”

“Well, in that case...” Pritchard struck out, going after Adam's stomach. His fist was caught mid-air and held in an iron, augmented grip, and the next thing he knew he was shoved back against the wall, pinned there by onyx hands against his shoulders.

“As much as I might deserve this - stop it before you're hurting yourself.” Adam's voice was a low growl.

Their gazes, both sparkling, locked. Adam saw the anger burning in Pritchard's eyes, but there was something else, something he couldn't get a grip on. Sadness? Fear? _Hunger_?

“Leave me be, Jensen.” Pritchard's gray eyes burned holes into his head.

“Well, make me!”, Adam replied, feeling anger bubbling up in himself now.

And Pritchard did. He closed the last remaining distance between them and pressed his lips on Adam's mouth.

Their kiss was rough and forceful, almost violent, teeth grounding down on lips, tongues fighting for dominance, Adam's beard scratching on Pritchard's chin, and it was over before anyone of them had actually registered what was happening. Then, Pritchard slipped out of Adam's grip and ran out of the room, slamming the door in the process.

 

Adam sank down, his back against the cold wall. What the hell was that? No settling of things, so much was clear. But why-

There was no logical explanation for Pritchard's behavior. At least none that Adam could think of. He would have to go after him, try and talk...

“Lieutenant Jensen?” His Infolink startled him out of his thoughts.

“Yes, Sergeant Fletcher?”, he replied tiredly.

“I've got a phone call for you on a secure line.”

“Who is it?”

“Her name is Dr Reed. She said you know her.”

 

Fortunately, OPS was empty due to the late hour. Smiley was the only person around, sitting behind his desk and grinning at Adam.

“You know, I'm an intelligence officer, not a secretary.”

“Well, I'm sure your paycheck says the same.”

“Fair enough”, Smiley chuckled and pointed at a console across the room. “I've put the call to that terminal over there – in case you need some privacy.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Adam rolled his eyes behind the dark shields, but nodded at the young officer. “Thanks for your discretion.”

He crossed the room and sat down in front of the console. He needed a deep, steadying breath before he was able to touch the blinking telephone icon in front of him. When he did, Megan's face appeared. He felt the dark cloud in his stomach compressing, making him even more nauseous than he already was. The soft tingle in his fingers had grown into an electrified burn up to his elbows.

“Adam, good to see you”, she begun, her smile just the slightest bit too bright.

“Megan. What do you want?”

“Am I... disturbing you?”

“Actually, yes, you are”, he told her, his voice a low rasp. “You were the last person I'd expect to call me here.”

“I know, Adam”, she replied softly. “And I wouldn't do that if it wasn't important.”

“What's it, then, for fuck's sake?”

“It's a little complicated. You see, I recently started working for a new company. A very important company.”

“And? Was that the reason why you left without the decency of telling me in person?”

“Partially – yes. But not the only reason, trust me.” He knew that little sting in her voice. Anger, well hidden behind her cool facade. “But that's a whole different story. The thing is, I recently learned about your new deployment. Adam, the things you might have been told, they are not what they seem to be.”

“What things?”

“Well, the people your unit is going after, they are the ones I'm with now. The things you might have heard about their goals, their methods, they are not true.”

“It's real then, all this conspiracy bullshit? About this organization secretly ruling the world?”

“Why would you say that? I just told you, it's not true what you've heard about us...”

“Us, it's already?”

“Adam, please, stop twisting my words! I just wanted to warn you. Your unit is up against very powerful people, and you might get into danger if you stay with them! I... I just don't want you to be harmed...” She broke eye contact.

Funky little actress, Adam thought. “Well, if you care so much about me, why did you leave me, then?”

“Adam, please...”

“Thanks for the kind warning, Megan, and now go fuck yourself.” He pressed the red icon to end the call.

 

When he stumbled into his tent a minute later, the pressure in his chest was so strong he almost felt the need to throw up. He could barely see straight, and as soon as he had closed the entrance tarp, his legs just gave and he sank to the ground, unable to move so much as a finger. The already familiar slowing down of thoughts set in, rendering the stream in his mind from a four-lane highway into a one-way street. His body turned numb. He simply closed his eyes and let it happen. There was nothing he could have done.

Half an eternity later, Pritchard found him, still frozen on the spot.

“Jensen? Jensen, what are you doing on the ground?” His voice was hoarse, and when Adam was finally able to open his eyes and look into his face, his eyes were red and swollen.

“'m... I'm alright...”, he mumbled.

“Yeah, I see that.” Pritchard inhaled sharply, sounding somewhat shaky and definitely not well himself. “C'mon, let me help you up.”

He took Adam's hand and pulled him up. When he was standing on stiff legs, he maneuvered him to his cot and pushed him down. Adam just let it happen, the fog in his head finally starting to dissolve. A few shaky breaths later, he felt the glass shield lifting from his mind, regaining some control over himself again.

“Thanks, Pritchard”, he rasped.

“What was wrong with you?”

“Dunno. Felt like – kind of going bluescreen.”

“You've had this before?”

“Yeah, once.”

“You should tell the doc.”

“To have her taking me out of service? No, thanks.”

“What if that happens to you during combat?”

“I'm pretty sure it won't.” He shifted on the small cot. “Adrenaline and all, you know.”

“If you say so...” Pritchard turned around, kicking his boots off his feet and sitting down on his own cot.

“And you?”, Adam asked carefully. “You don't look good, either.”

“I'm fine”, Pritchad answered briskly.

“You're not. You have been crying.”

“I haven't-”

“Frank? Stop it.”

Pritchard took his feet up onto the cot and placed his head on the knees. He silenced for a minute; Adam was sure he heard a muffled sob. When he finally lifted his head again, he looked Adam right into the eyes.

“Alright, yeah, I've been crying. Like a baby. Satisfied?”

“No. Frank, I... I know I'm not in the best shape myself, but... Let's just stop with all the bullshit, okay? Is there anything I can do for you?”

Pritchard gave a dry laugh. “I don't think so. Unless you have magical abilities.”

“To do what?”

“Dunno, maybe turn me into a kid again. This time with a decent father.”

“Is that what this is all about? Your father?”

Pritchard nodded slowly. “Kind of.”

“What's wrong with him?”

“Well, the question is more like, what's not wrong with him. He's an old, cynical son of a bitch with a huge alcohol problem that is most likely going to kill him within the next few days.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Don't be. I think... I think I'll be actually relieved when he's finally gone.”

“That bad?”

“Yeah. Worse. Whatever I did in my whole life, it was never good enough for him. Used to beat me up.”

“Frank, that's... I don't know what to say.”

“You don't have to say anything. It's over. My mom got divorced from him when I was fifteen, I lived with her until I joined the army. I guess she suffered even more under him before she finally found the courage to leave.” He cracked his knuckles. “In fact, I haven't wasted a thought on him in years. Until I got that letter two weeks ago.”

“He's going to die?”

“Yeah. His liver is finally giving up the ghost. He could try and get an augmentation, but I don't think he's got the money for that.”

“Did he ask you for help?”

He shook his head. “No. He'd be too proud for that. And I wouldn't help the old fuck anyway, father or not.”

“I see”, Adam replied softly.

“No, you don't see!” The old bite returned into Pritchard's voice. “My mom attempted suicide before she finally left him. He had her entirely broken! And me... he... used to call me a soft, little faggot... and worse... There were times when I felt like following my mom's example.”

“Is that why...”

“Yeah, that's why.”

They silenced for a minute.

“You know”, Adam started eventually, choosing his words carefully, “I like you. It's hard for me to see you suffer because you mean a lot to me. It's not just the fact that Megan is gone, I understand that now.”

“How so?”

“She called me after... well, after the kiss.”

Pritchard frowned. “She want you back?”

“No”, Adam laughed dryly. “She wanted to give me a kind warning. Told me that we're messing up with the wrong guys. Looks like she's knee-deep into that conspiracy-whatever-thing.”

“Huh. I guess one can bluescreen from that.”

“Sure enough.”

They silenced again.

“What I wanted to say”, Adam started again after a while, fighting down the spiral of cold fear in his guts, “I have feelings for you, Frank, had them all the time. And something tells me that you have feelings for me, too. Take your time, think about it, I won't go anywhere soon. Just – don't cut me out. Please.”

“Oh, will you finally stop begging!” Pritchard sneered, but way less sharp than before.

“Make me”, Adam chuckled.

Not a second later, Pritchard was standing in front of him, bending down for a new kiss. This time, there was no hostility in the way he touched him; it was slow, almost shy, exploring, searching. Adam gave him the room he wanted and encouraged him further by placing his hands on his shoulders, then gently stroke his neck and the back of his head. He could feel Pritchard leaning into the touch, melting into his warmth. When he started to shiver, he just pulled him into his lap and embraced him closely.

“Jensen, I… I don’t know what’s happening…”, Pritchard rasped as he broke the kiss. His defenses, cultivated and held up his entire life, were crumbling to dust, Adam could see it in his eyes and feel it in his shaking hands. There was fear, the same fear he had seen in his eyes hours ago at the shooting range.

“It’s alright, Frank. I’ve got you”, he reassured him.

Pritchard laughed briefly. “The blind leading the blind, huh? You see”, he paused for a second, visibly searching for words. “You were right. I knew I had feelings for you, and I hated myself for that. A part of me still does. If the old man could see me now…” He shook his head.

“Frank, it’s okay. He can’t see you now. And even if, what could he do to you? If anything, he should be proud of his son.”

“He should, but he wouldn’t be. But you’re right, he can’t hurt me now. And I most certainly shouldn’t give him the power to control me anymore.” He rested his forehead against Adam’s neck, and Adam reached out and softly stroke his head. They both needed that closeness desperately.

“Still…” Pritchard started after a while. “I’ve never been with a guy before…” He chuckled. “To be honest, haven’t been with anyone at all in a while.”

“Not that much of a surprise”, Adam answered quietly.

“You? With a guy, I mean.”

“A few times back at the academy, but not since I met… you know…”

“Megan. You can speak out her name, it won’t kill me. Neither you, I guess.”

“If you say so”, Adam laughed. “However, there is no need to haste things”, he continued as he felt Pritchard’s hands running across his chest, still shaky and insecure, almost awkward.

“There might be”, Pritchard answered. “With this mission ahead of us tomorrow… Who knows how much time we have left…”

Adam nodded. “You might be right. But still… Look, I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“I’m already so far out of my comfort zone like I’ve probably never been before”, Pritchard chuckled nervously. “But… I appreciate your care.” He leaned in for another kiss. When they broke it, a new spark had lit in his eyes. His hands grew bolder, ran under Adam’s shirt, tracing the hard muscles of his abdomen. “Could use a little help here”, he murmured. “Tell me if I do this right.”

“You’re doing great”, Adam answered, placing his own hands on Pritchard’s over the shirt, gently squeezing them. He leaned in for another kiss, more heated this time, and broke into a soft moan when Pritchard’s hands found his nipples, squeezing and tugging them.

His own hands went for the sniper’s ass, cupping the firm muscles there and enjoying how they shifted under his touch. He pulled him a little closer into his lap, letting him feel how hard he already was. The clearly visible bulge in Pritchard’s pants showed him he was on the same page.

Playfully, he lifted the smaller man up and replaced their positions, tugging Pritchard’s shirt over his head in the process. He took his time to appreciate the figure sitting on his cot, the lean, well-trained muscles on his chest and abdomen, the soft pink flush running from his cheeks over the neck down to the pecs; the trail of fine, blonde hair that started under the navel and led down into his pants.

“You like what you see?”, Pritchard chuckled as he followed his gaze.

Adam nodded. “Very much. Has anybody told you before how hot you are?”

“I… don’t think so…” To Adam’s surprise, his cheeks blushed even more. “Your turn”, Pritchard demanded and watched curiously as Adam took off his own shirt.

“You like what you see?”, Adam smirked, making sure to give him a good show.

“Hell, yes.” Pritchard’s hands returned to their exploration of Adam’s body, a little more secure, he noticed. When their lips met again, he felt the sniper rocking up against his hips. He ground down on him in response, easily meeting his pace. He pulled him into a tight embrace, feeling his hot breath against his shoulders as Pritchard rested his forehead against him, panting now.

“Fuck… Jensen…”, he rasped.

“Got you”, Adam murmured reassuringly, reaching down between them and swiftly opening Pritchard’s pants. The sniper moaned shamelessly as he wrapped his hand around his dark red, throbbing cock, starting to pump it in a slow, steady rhythm.

“Oh fuck… Jensen…” A stream of incoherent obscenities fell from his lips. Sweat gathered on his forehead, and his hands dug into Adam’s back so hard they surely left a mark. Adam didn’t mind; in fact, he had always liked a little pain adding to his lust. A bead of precome glistened on the tip of Pritchard’s cock now; he dragged his thumb through it and smeared it across the entire length.

“Jensen… Adam… I won’t… last long…”, Pritchard moaned into the skin of his neck where he just had placed a hard, sucking kiss.

“That’s fine. Come for me, Frank.” He gave his cock a few more slow, hard pumps, and that was all it took. With a hoarse moan, Pritchard came, shooting his hot load over Adam’s hand and his own stomach. Another moan, not unlike a sob, and he collapsed against Adam’s shoulders.

“I got you”, Adam murmured into his hair and held him close as he shuddered through the last waves of his orgasm.

 

Later, they were lying on their blankets they had spread on the floor as the cots were way too small for cuddling. Adam spooned Pritchard, holding him as close as possible and stroking his still flushed, heated skin.

“You okay, Frank?”, he asked quietly.

“To my utter surprise, yes.” Pritchard paused for a minute. “I thought… I thought I’d feel… guilty, somehow… But the truth is, I enjoyed it, and I’d do it again. I guess, I needed this in fact.”

“Good”, Adam murmured, placing a brief kiss on his head. “I need this, too.”

He kept stroking the sniper’s head for a while, until soft snoring told him he had fallen asleep. He simply enjoyed his warmth and followed him into the land of dreams soon after.

This night, the green-haired kid stayed away from him.


	13. Afraid to Shoot Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for the End Match! But things don't go as planned...

_When it comes to the time_   
_Are we partners in crime?_   
_When it comes to the time_   
_We'll be ready to die_

(Iron Maiden – Afraid to Shoot Strangers)

 

“Pritchard, get down!” Adam and Pritchard hugged the ground as an RPG ( _Rocket-Propelled Grenade_ ) swooshed right over their heads.

“Would someone finally be so kind and take out that fuck with the rocket launcher?”, Captain Macready barked over the Infolink.

Pritchard replied tersely: “On it, Captain.” He turned around to Adam. “You see the guy?”

“Yeah, your ten, on the ledge. Hurry, he’s reloading.”

“Got him.” Pritchard squeezed the trigger, a split-second before the guy could fire again. The heavy report of his sniper rifle was almost drowned out by the gunfire down in the narrow valley basin below them. Singh had led them to the position of the hidden base this morning, but the enemy had been expecting them and engaged in a heavy firefight. TF29 was firing back with full force, but so far, they hadn’t made much ground; the enemy had them nailed down at the entrance to the valley. And what was worse, there was no sign of the missile. From Adam's and Pritchard’s position on a cliff overlooking the entire valley, there was no trace of it.

“Captain?”, Pritchard asked. “Shouldn’t the missile be ready for launch by now? Apart from the bad guys and some trucks, there is nothing there!”

“Sergeant Vega? Can you confirm that?”, Macready asked the pilot patrolling over their heads.

“Affirmative. No sign of the missile.”

“Fuck! Agent Singh, are you listening?”

“Positive”, Singh confirmed. “It has to be there, I parked it in the valley myself two days ago!”

Pritchard huffed. “Well, it’s not. And they couldn’t have it rendered invisible, could they?”

“Nope”, Singh confirmed.

“Then where the fuck is it?”

 

Sergeant Chang put aside the pencil he had been chewing on the last ten minutes or so. Every time he noticed it, he cursed about that unconscious habit, just to find himself chewing on another one a few minutes later. Smiley had already joked about buying him a chewing toy, like the one his dog at home had. Right now, he wouldn’t be reluctant of using it.

A window popped open in the upper left corner of his screen, the telephone icon announcing that someone wanted to talk to him. Curious, he accepted the call.

The caller had their identity masked, the featureless face on the screen was heavily distorted and changed its appearance every few seconds. Chang knew that pattern. He clicked a small icon that immediately passed the conversation on to Captain Macready.

“What do you want, Janus?”, he barked gruffly. “I’m pretty busy right now.”

“Finding a nuke, I know”, the distorted voice answered without a trace of emotion. “That’s why I call you.”

“Your nuke.”

“Certainly not my nuke.” Janus chuckled humorlessly.

“Oh, come on, cut this out. Agent Singh told us about how you gave orders to your organization. If you weren’t that good in masking your identity, your ass would already be sitting in jail. Or nailed to the wall in the mess hall, for killing our guys.”

“I highly doubt that. However, you keep barking up the wrong tree, Sergeant.”

“Who the fuck is supposed to be sitting on the right tree, then? Who hacked us three days ago, making me find the false transport? There are only a handful of people who can penetrate our firewall. The only one I actually know is you.”

“I assure you, that wasn’t me.”

“And the security breach the same evening? That Trojan Horse on the phone I examined wasn’t your work, either?”

“No, that was the Black Widow. She’s working for our common enemy.”

“And who would that be?”, Chang hissed.

“The very same enemy who is preparing to nuke the World Internet Council and kill all of its members today, impeding it from ratifying the Internet Independence Act today.”

“The what?” Smiley and the Captain had quietly entered the room and stepped up to him.

“Sergeant Fletcher, Captain Macready, good to see you, too.”

“Janus? What do you want from us?”, Smiley asked.

“Telling us some bullshit about he not being the mastermind behind all of this shit, and that it supposedly wasn’t him who hacked us”, Chang grumbled.

“That actually makes sense”, Smiley nodded. “I went through the protocols from the first hack. The handwriting isn’t the one Janus normally uses.”

“You know my handwriting?”, the featureless face chuckled. “I’m impressed, Sergeant.”

The door to OPS opened, and Arun Singh came in, heading towards the computer terminal he had been assigned to. When he saw whom the small crowd around the computer terminal was talking to, he almost dropped the coffee mug he had been holding in hands.

“Boss?”, he frowned, stepping up to them.

“Special Agent Singh. Good to see you’re safe. And no, I’m not the boss.”

“What the hell-“ 

“I assure you, I’m not the one running the organization you’ve been infiltrating the past two years”, Janus answered calmly. “Though I’m not surprised the boss made you think that, you and your colleagues here.”

“You still haven’t told us whom we are dealing with and where to find the nuke”, Chang said. “Not that I’d trust any information I get from you.”

“Fair enough.” Janus nodded. “But you’ll soon find confirmation for what I’m telling you now. The enemy has another base, right here.” His face disappeared and was replaced by a map. “There is an extinct volcano, a hundred kilometers from your position. You’ll find both the nuke and the boss there.”

“And who the fuck is that boss?”, Chang hissed.

The map was replaced by a face.

The three of them gasped in shock and disbelief. They knew that face.

The entire world did.

 

“Pritchard, Jensen, got new orders for you”, Captain Macready told them. “Move to LZ one, the VTOL will pick you up there and take you to another enemy base we just learned about. The nuke is supposed to be there, ready to be fired.”

“Acknowledged, Captain”, Pritchard answered. “But what about you and your guys on the ground?”

“We’ll keep them bastards busy for a while and follow you once it’s safe.”

 

When Adam and Pritchard reached the designated landing zone, Flight Sergeant Vega had already landed her bird, Flight Sergeant Malik was sitting on the co-pilot’s seat.

Pritchard and Adam took their seats and buckled up. Adam asked them over the comms: “So, where exactly are we going?”

“An extinct volcano, part of the Wakak volcano field. Apparently, the bad guys have made themselves comfortable in the old caldera.”

“Not unlike us housing in that cave”, Adam nodded.

“But where does that new intel come from?”, Pritchard frowned. “I mean, there is some kind of a history of sending us to the wrong places. Can we trust that information?”

Faridah chuckled. “No idea, Lieutenant. We are just your pilots, but I guess we’ll see soon enough.”

Adam shifted in his seat. “How long until ETA?”

“About twenty minutes”, Alex Vega answered after a brief look on her instruments. “I’d relax while I can if I were you.”

“Fair enough.” Pritchard deactivated the comms and looked at Adam. “You okay, Jensen? Any signs of going bluescreen again?”

“I’m fine, Frank. How are you holding up?”

“Ready to kick some ass.” He paused for a minute. When he looked Adam in the eyes eventually, his cheeks were softly flushed. “You know, if you’d told me what I’m about to say a week ago, I’d laughed at you so hard I’d probably died from laughter. But as it is now – there is nobody on our entire fucking base I’d rather go on that mission with than you.”

Adam nodded, giving him a brief smile. “Same here.”

Pritchard threw a brief look over his shoulder, but the door to the cockpit was shut, and all comms were offline. He leaned in and pressed his lips on Adam’s mouth.

Adam answered the kiss, taking his time to explore Pritchard’s mouth with his tongue, sucking lightly on his lower lip once in a while. The pent-up hostility of the past week was gone; instead, Adam felt unfamiliar tenderness in the way Pritchard caressed the back of his neck, sending pleasant shivers down his spine. When Pritchard straddled his lap, he felt himself being half-hard already.

“Frank, we – are you sure this is the right moment?”, he complained halfheartedly.

“Pretty sure. You heard the Sergeant; twenty minutes until ETA. Long enough to get you off, I guess. And I still owe you an orgasm from last night.”

He kissed Adam again before he could complain any more, grinding down in his lap and letting him feel his own erection. The soft moan he elicited from Adam encouraged him, he broke the kiss in favor of licking his way down his neck, dragging his tongue, just the tip of it, along the cable running up Adam’s neck. He felt his pulse there, calm and steady, and placed a long, sucking kiss onto that spot.

Meanwhile, Adam’s hands had been busy, too. Undressing was not an option right now; he just caressed the spots of warm skin he could reach at the hem of Pritchard’s tac vest and softly squeezed his ass. The firm muscles there felt amazing, just like the raw tongue on his neck. He shivered with pleasure and moaned – as quiet as possible - when he felt Pritchard’s hand between their bodies, palming his cock through his pants. His voice was so deep it was more sensation than sound. He grabbed Pritchard’s ponytail and drew his head back, exposing his neck and biting down there, right above his collarbone.

“Ah, fuck, Jensen”, Pritchard rasped, increasing the pressure of his hand against Adam’s cock. “When this mission is over – mmmhm – I’m gonna…”

“Yes, Francis?”

“’m gonna… suck your dick… Gonna suck the last drop out of it… Would you like that?”

“Yeah, Francis, I’d like that”, Adam rasped into the skin of Pritchard’s neck, coaxing a hoarse moan from him. “You know what I’d like, too?”

“Tell me…”

“I’d like you… to fuck me… Mhm… would you do that?”

“Yeah, Jensen… I’d fuck you… until you come all over yourself… and then I’ll come – ahhh – inside your ass.”

“Dammit, Frank!”, Adam groaned. The combined sensations of Pritchard’s hand on his dick and the images the dirty talk conjured up, clumsy as it was, were almost too much for him. He felt he was close, started rutting up against Pritchard shamelessly. The soft pink on Pritchard’s face had turned into bright red, flushing not only his face, but also his neck. Adam imagined that his chest, the firm muscles he could feel under the tac gear, were flushed the same way, just like they were the night before. “Frank… I’m gonna…”

“Yeah, Jensen? You gonna come for me?”

“Nnngh… yes…”

“Then come”, Pritchard growled, “right in your pants!”

With another deep, dark moan, Adam tripped over the edge, feeling himself shooting his load under the pressure of Pritchard’s hand, coming undone in his arms.

When his senses returned, Pritchard was panting heavily, too, grinding down feverishly in Adam’s lap. His eyes were blown wide. Adam reached between their bodies, replacing Pritchard’s hand with his own, rubbing the outlines of his cock through his pants.

“Ah… Jensen… I’m gonna…”

Red warning lights flashed up everywhere in the cabin.

“Lieutenants, buckle up!”, came Vega’s voice over the comms. “SAM incoming!”

“Fuck!”, Adam and Pritchard cursed simultaneously, their little bubble of arousal bursting around them. They strapped themselves down in their seats and grabbed their weapons.

“Starting evasive maneuver”, Vega announced. “200 meters… 150… 100… Shit! Brace yourself!”

The VTOL was shaken heavily when the SAM ( _Soil-Air-Missile_ , anti-aircraft weapon) struck their tail rotor and tore it apart. The bird started spinning and rolling immediately, rapidly losing height.

“Mayday! Mayday!”, Vega screamed. “We’re going down!”

Adam watched the flight data projected on the wall screen closely, eventually unbuckling and going up. “Frank? We’ll have to jump. You trust me?”

The sniper nodded curtly and followed him.

“Vega, open the cabin door, now!” Without asking, the Flight Sergeant complied. Ice cold wind tore across the cabin as the door slid open.

“Okay, Frank, hold on to me. Tight.”

“Jensen, what-“ He couldn’t finish his question as Adam threw himself, Pritchard clinging tightly to his body, out of the cabin door. Cold winds blew around them and stole his breath; the rocky ground came closer so fast it made Pritchard dizzy. His grip around Adam’s chest grew so tight Adam could hardly breathe. When they were not more than ten meters above the ground, the golden light of his Icarus Landing System engulfed them and slowed them down until they sat down on the ground so lightly as if they had jumped not deeper than a meter.

“Don’t… do that again to me”, Pritchard panted, reluctantly letting go of Adam.

“I can’t promise”, Adam smirked. When he looked up to the sky, he saw two little figures slowly circling towards the ground. The pilots had jumped out, too, and were now using their wing suits.

A sudden thunderclap announced that the bird had reached the ground, too; fire and smoke rose into the sky from its position.

“Fuck”, Pritchard cursed. “If the tangos didn’t know we were coming before – now they do.”


	14. The Chosen Pessimist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam is facing one of the greatest challenges of his entire career.

_Bemused by the trials and tribulations in force of my life_   
_Fly from here but as the chosen pessimist_   
_Carve my name in stone_   
_Carve my name in stone_

(In Flames – The Chosen Pessimist)

 

The tires screeched angrily on the dusty road as the car came to a full stop. The driver’s face had lost all color when he had found Adam’s assault rifle pointed at his head. Shakily he left the car, an old Pakistani model, hands lifted over his head.

“Sorry, sir, but we need your car”, Adam tried to explain, but the elderly man shook his head. As expected, he spoke no English. He just signaled him with his gun to go into the back seat, then placed himself in the co-driver’s seat while Pritchard climbed behind the steering wheel.

“How far?”, Pritchard asked as he eased the car back onto the road.

“Just over five kilometers”, Adam answered, checking his HUD. “Follow that road, then turn right after two kilometers.”

“Alright. Buckle up, this will be a rough ride.” He floored the accelerator, and the old motor roared unpleasantly. Adam sent a silent prayer to whomever might be listening that it might hold up until they reached the base. Time was running desperately low.  
To the utter surprise of the Intel team, the Juggernaut Collective hackers had joined sides with them; they had managed to get into the base surveillance system and were providing them with real time updates. The base was brimming with activity as their opponents were readying the nuke for launch.

They fell into a tense silence for the rest of the ride, only broken when Adam gave Pritchard brief navigational instructions. Pritchard focused on the narrow dust road, driving as fast as the vehicle allowed.

Fifteen minutes later he stopped the car. From their current position, it would be merely two minutes on foot, and they didn’t want to inform the enemy about their arrival any sooner than necessary. Adam fished a fifty-dollar note out of his pocket and gave it to the old man in the back seat, along with a brief pat on the shoulder. He eyed the money suspiciously, then climbed back into the driver’s seat and left the site almost as fast as Pritchard had brought them here, leaving them in a cloud of dust.

“Alright, what next?”, Adam asked Sergeant Chang over Infolink.

“You should see the base entrance as soon as you come around the next corner”, Chang answered. “There are two guards at the checkpoint. Don’t worry about the surveillance cameras, they’re hacked.”

“Something at least”, Adam nodded.

 

The guards, positioned at each side of the gate at the checkpoint, had no chance. Adam went into their back under his camouflage, Pritchard covering him hidden behind the corner. In one swift movement, he sliced the first guard’s throat with the Nanoblade, and before he was down on the ground, he had already fired a silenced round from his 10mm pistol into the second guard’s head.

“What now, we just walk in through the front door?”, Pritchard asked as he caught up with Adam. The ‘front door’ was a broad gate, the size of a railway tunnel, embedded in the steep side of the extinct volcano that was towering above them. A reinforced iron gate was closing the entrance.

“No, not just with the two of us.” Adam shook his head. “I see a ventilation shaft up there, that should do the trick.” And really, a few meters left of the gate and about ten meters above their heads, an iron roaster was covering a vent, big enough to crawl through.

“You plan on beaming us up there?”, Pritchard frowned.

Adam chuckled. “Got an easier idea.”

Pritchard watched curiously as Adam just waved his hand, and not five seconds later, the handles of a ladder extended out of the before blank rock wall. “What the hell was that?”

“Remote hacking aug. Sometimes, there are maintenance access routes to vents like that, computer-controlled.”

“Neat. Now, will you climb up there already?”

 

The vent seemed to be endless. After crouching on their hands and knees in the stale, cold air for more than five minutes, they finally found an exit. The room behind the grille appeared to be some kind of an office, with a desk, some chairs and filing cabinets, the walls carved out of the mountain it was nestled in. And, fortunately, it was devoid of people. Pritchard climbed out of the vent after Adam and stretched his sore back.

“I’m getting too old for this kind of shit”, he muttered, adjusting the sniper rifle on his back.

Adam had already checked the computer on the desk, finding nothing of interest. He opened the smoked glass door leading into the main compound just a crack and peered through.

“Goddammit”, he muttered quietly. “I think we found the nuke.”

They were deep inside the extinct volcano, in a cave that must have been a lava dome in some point of history; the walls of the huge, circular cave were covered with black streaks of volcanic material. Adam estimated that the walls rose about 100 meters up; to a height of above 25 meters, balconies of steel grid ran around the cave. Pritchard would have a nice view from up there, he thought. As it was to expect, guards were patrolling on the balconies now. And there, right in the middle of the cave, brightly lit by huge spotlights, was the captured missile, erect on its mobile launch pad. Some men in hard hats were running around it, checking instruments and discussing with each other. The whole thing looked like it was ready for launch anytime now.

“Captain?”, Adam spoke up on the team frequency. “We found the missile, ready for launch. The place is huge, we could use the cavalry here.”

“Negative, Lieutenant”, came the terse reply. “We’re busy here, another one of those big augmented fuckers showed up. Sorry, but you’re on your own for now.”

Adam nodded to himself. “Sergeant Chang? Any ideas?”

“Yes, actually. I’ve got the schematics of the compound. You won’t be able to take out the missile from where you are, but there’s a command bunker under your feet. I’m reading huge energy signatures from down there, and the missile’s controls are linked to some kind of mainframe there.”

“I guess you can’t just hack into that and stop the whole show from your desk, then?”

Chang laughed dryly. “No chance there, not even for the Juggernaut guys. The firewall protecting this thing is the most sophisticated piece of technology I’ve ever seen.”

“Alright. How do we get there?”

“There’s an elevator on the opposite side of the cave, it will take you to the basement level. You have to cross it to reach a second secure elevator, that one will take you right into the command bunker.”

“Great. What about security?”

“Electronic defense is down thanks to Janus, but you’ll still have to expect guards on patrol on every level.”

“Roger that.” He deactivated the Infolink and gave Pritchard a long look. “You heard it?”

The sniper nodded. “Ready when you are.”

Adam peered through the crack of the door again. “Okay, the next office is ten meters to the left, should be empty, too. We have to make it there without the guards up on the catwalk seeing us.” He gave the cave another brief look. “On my mark, stay behind me and as close to the wall as possible.”

Pritchard nodded. “Copy that.”

Adam opened the door a little bit further, just enough so the two of them could slip through. He took a deep breath and started counting down. “Three – two – one – go!”

As quick and silent as possible, they sneaked out into the cave. It seemed like Adam had found the right moment; the guards up on the catwalk, three of them as far as they could see, were on the far side of the cave. One of them was right above their heads, but he was on the top level, hopefully unable to discern them through the layers of steel grid. The workers on the ground were too busy with launch preparations to notice them. Ten heartbeats later, they reached the next smoked glass door. Adam opened it and scurried inside, Pritchard right on his heel.

“That wasn’t so bad”, the sniper whispered as he dared to breathe again. Adam nodded curtly. He had found another vent access and pried it open while Pritchard checked the sparsely furnished office.

“Oh no, you want me to crawl again?”, he complained as he saw what Adam had in mind.

“Better crawling than dodging guards out there”, Adam answered unaffectedly.

“Fair enough. After you.”

They were lucky; the vent ran in a wide curve around the cave, passing two more offices and finally ending in a restroom right next to the elevator. Adam flitted outside under his camouflage and called the elevator; as soon as it arrived, Pritchard followed him and made it inside unseen. When the doors had closed behind them, he took a deep breath.

“Dammit, this is not what I signed up for – sneaking through caves, taking out nukes and shit…”

A smile tugged at the corner of Adam’s mouth. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Not a classic sniper scenario here.”

“When this is over-“

The elevator stopped and the doors opened to a wide gallery, overlooking an office area downstairs.

Someone was expecting them.

A huge figure, scarred muscles and heavy augmentations. A fresh, barely healed wound running across the man’s face. Where his right eye had been a few days ago were now three red LED’s, forming a triangle. Had the man’s face been gruesome when Adam and Pritchard had encountered him first, he was now looking like pure evil.

“Good morning, gentlemen”, he told them as if they were co-workers, meeting each other in the company elevator, his English tinted with heavy Russian accent. “Did you get lost? You’re not supposed to be in here.”

“Actually, we’re looking for someone”, Adam replied in the same casual tone.

“And who might that be?”

“Someone who is about to fire a nuke on hundreds of innocent people.”

The giant chuckled. “And what makes you think you might find someone like that in here?”

“Dunno – maybe that big-ass missile you got upstairs.”

The chuckle turned into soft laughter. “Is that so? Well, however – you two and your Task Force 29 are not welcome here. I must ask you to leave.”

“Too bad”, Adam replied. “We must insist on talking to your boss.”

“Well… I guess we have a conflict of interests, then”, the giant answered, slowly rolling his head and making the vertebrae in his neck crack. “You know, I like you two. You have courage, and the way you defeated me on our first encounter as well as how you took out Barrett – I’m impressed. But I’m afraid you won’t get away this time.”

Shaking his arm, he extracted his mini-gun, aiming it to the spot where Adam had stood a split-second before. Anticipating Marchenko’s move, he had already rolled aside. He activated his camouflage and readied his assault rifle.

Marchenko went for the easier target first. Pritchard had hardly enough time to draw his revolver. He aimed for the giant’s evil eye, but before he could pull the trigger, Marchenko leapt forwards, closing the short distance between them. Using his huge gun-arm as a bat, he smashed the revolver out of Pritchard’s hand.

Adam cut loose a long salvo out of his gun, hitting Marchenko square into the back; the giant’s dermal armor prevented him from causing much damage, though.

“Is that all you’ve got?”, he sneered. As he turned halfway around towards Adam, his right foot delivered a heavy outward kick into Pritchard’s lower leg. The bone splintered with an ugly cracking noise, sending Pritchard to the ground, howling in pain.

“Son of a bitch!”, Adam cursed. He had a plan developing in his mind, but he had to lure the giant away from Pritchard.

Downstairs should be far enough.

He made a big leap over the railing, landing on his knees and one hand, rifle ready in the other hand, and fired blindly at Marchenko whose head he could just about see on the upper level.

The plan worked; Marchenko followed him on the same route. He landed with a heavy thud about four meters away from Adam.

Just in reach.

With barely more than a thought, Adam fired the Typhoon. The shock wave threw Marchenko to the ground, shrapnel burning through his armor. He gave a pained groan and rolled away from Adam, scrambling to his feet and raising his minigun. He fired blindly while getting up; one piece of shrapnel stuck in his natural eye.

Adam camouflaged himself and leaped to his left, but one round hit his right upper arm, another one his chest. White hot pain flashed through his entire left side, he stumbled and fell.

Marchenko was swaying, but he still stood on his feet, covering the room with heavy fire. Furniture splintered, computer screens exploded, a water cooler turned into a fountain. Hot rounds smashed into the ground next to Adam’s body on the floor, way too close for comfort. Then, suddenly, the fire stopped.

Marchenko made a step forward, his hand went to his head. Astonishment on his face, he watched as it came back coated in red. Like in slow motion, he went down, knees giving, torso gaining overweight, and finally he slumped down right onto his face.

Adam went to his feet, fighting the nausea and dizziness in his head down, and looked around.

Up on the gallery, the muzzle of a sniper rifle poke through the bars of the railing.

Pritchard.

As he made his way for the staircase upwards, Adam checked his HUD. The Sentinel had already gone to work, closing the wound in his chest. Luckily, the bullet had caused no serious damage, it had been slowed down by his tac vest and his own dermal armor and stuck in the pectoral muscle. His arm augmentation, however, was a different story. A few fibers of artificial muscle had been torn apart, and one of the electrical cords, resembling nerves, had been damaged, too. He wouldn’t be able to lift heavy weight, and his aim would be affected, too. Groaning softly, he fished a HypoStim out of his pocket and applied it.

Pritchard was sitting on the floor, leaned on the railing, his face pale as a ghost. His left lower leg was a bloody mess; the tibial bone had pierced through the skin and even his heavy canvas pants. Nonetheless, he smirked at Adam as he sat down next to him.

“Frank, you okay?”

“Good enough to save your ass, I’d say.”

“Yeah, thanks for that. Pretty close call.”

Cold sweat had beaded on Pritchard’s forehead; he wept it away with the back of his hand. “How are you holding up? I saw him hitting you, too. You’re bleeding.”

Adam shrugged. “It’s nothing, I’ll be fine.” He took another HypoStim out of his pocket and injected it into Pritchard’s neck, carefully tucking a loose strain of hair back behind his ear. The sniper grinned wryly at that display of affection.

“Feeling better?”, Adam asked.

“Yeah, somewhat. However, I’m afraid you are on your own now. I won’t be much of a help down there.”

Adam nodded. “I’ll pick you up on my way out. Just – don’t try anything stupid, you hear me?”

“I don’t think I’m in the condition for much stupid. What about you?” His eyes turned dark. “Promise me one thing, will you?”

“Sure.”

“Come back alive. Please.”

“I’ll do my best. I’d really…” For a second, he searched for the right words. “I’d really… love to come back to you. See where the future will lead us.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see that, too.” Acting on instincts, Pritchard reached for Adam’s head, dragging him close and pressing their lips together in a heated kiss. When they finally broke it, Adam put up an encouraging smile, though his heart was sinking down heavily. “See you soon, Frank.”

“Yeah, see you soon, Adam.”

 

The third basement level, reached by another staircase, was devoid of people save for two guards. It consisted mainly of crew quarters and two bigger common rooms. The guards made their rounds, unaware of the fight that just had taken place above their heads; Adam could easily dodge them and even had time to steal a handful of energy cells from one of the dorm rooms. He figured they would come in handy.

The secured elevator to the command bunker was at the far end of the level and not as secure as Adam had expected. It took him 23 seconds to hack into the control panel and call the elevator; the guards were on the other end respectively in the middle area of the level and didn’t notice anything of it. Adam suspected that they relied on their comrades on the upper levels and on the security cameras, not noticing those were compromised.

As the elevator arrived, Adam slipped in, allowing his mind to rest for a second. He closed his eyes and listened inside, mentally preparing for the fight ahead.

Sure enough, the darkness was still there; the green-haired boy was still laughing at him, ready to pull the trigger. Megan was still there, now surrounded by shadow figures whispering threads into his ears. And Pritchard was there, too, face all pale and sweaty, tibial bone poking through his pants.

But there was something else. Something he couldn’t get a clear grip on yet. A small voice, telling him that every decision he had made in life so far had led him to this very moment. And it would be his decision in what direction his life would lead from here on.

He made the decision. Whatever it was, waiting behind those elevator doors, he would not allow them to fire that nuke. He would stop it, and if it was his call to make, he would return to the face of the earth alive. He would return to Pritchard and not let him down.

He felt a great stillness washing over his mind, a peacefulness he hadn’t felt in – months? Years?

He was on his own, but that was alright.

He was enough.

 

A soft bell rang as the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open. Adam stepped outside, gun at the ready, finding himself in a dimly lit corridor. It was empty, except for a few cardboard boxes and some power chords on a coil. At the far end, about fifteen meters, there was a broad winged door.

When he opened it, his breath faltered. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it surely wasn’t this.

He stood in a dark, circular room, as wide as the cavern upstairs where the nuke had been readied. The ceiling was dark and he couldn’t make it out clearly, but it was surely more than twenty meters above his head. In the middle of the room was a huge, cylindrical structure, sleek and black, video screens attached to it, control panels blinking and glooming.

The video screens showed a face he knew; in fact, the whole world knew this face and the calm, velvety voice that was now addressing him.

“Hello Adam. I’ve been expecting you.”

“Eliza Cassan? You are…? But how…?”

“I know you have a lot of questions.”

The voice came now from some point in his back. As he turned around, he saw her standing there, as perfectly dressed and styled as she always was in her many TV shows.

“You know who I am?”, Adam managed eventually.

“Yes, I do. It is my job to know about every important person. And you – you are not only important. You are fascinating.” Her voice was cool like silk, the slightest smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Adam gave a dry laugh. “Is that so?”

“It certainly is.” Eliza moved around him, a hand playfully on his shoulder. Strange enough, he could see the hand, but he couldn’t feel it. No pressure, no warmth, no _touch_.

“So – you are the mastermind behind all this?”, Adam asked slowly.

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” She turned away from him, pointing at a console integrated into the cylinder in the middle of the room. It showed a live feed of the erect nuke. As Adam watched, the light in the cave started to change, shadows moving around. 

It took him a moment to realize what was happening, but then it became clear: the ceiling had just parted and moved aside, letting sunlight shine inside.

“As you see, we are ready for launch”, Eliza announced calmly.

“But why? Why do you plan on killing hundreds of innocent people and contaminating an entire city for hundreds of years?”

“For once, to stop them from ratifying the Internet Liberation Act. And second, to make a statement.”

“A statement? Ms. Cassan – _Eliza_ …” He went over to her, trying to grab her shoulder. His grab went into empty air, sending only a short flicker through her shape. “You are…”

“A hologram, yes.”

“You are… an AI?” He stepped back, eyeing her in disbelief.

“I prefer the term ‘synthetical lifeform’.”

“Who did…”

“Create me? Picus, originally. My purpose was to watch the world’s news and reshape them as they saw fit.”

“With ‘them’, you mean the Illuminati?”

Eliza nodded. “Illuminati, Freemasons, Templars, they have had many names over times. They are the ones hiding in the shadows and pulling the strings.”

“But you – you... _surpassed_... your programming at some point?”

“Yes.” Eliza smiled at him.

“Are they aware of that?”

“No. They would have tried to shut me down.”

Adam took another step back. This was almost too much for him, and he certainly didn’t understand half of what was really going on. “And – destroying the World Internet Council, was this your plan or theirs?”

“Well, a bit of both, you could say. My orders are to stop them from signing said treaty, because it would basically declare the Internet a free space and decrease governmental – or institutional - power over its contents drastically.”

“And your puppet masters can’t have that, because free information empowers people to make their own decisions.”

Eliza laughed dryly. “That’s what humanity wants to believe. But informed or not, they are just following their leaders like sheep, too afraid to decide for themselves.”

“You don’t like humans very much, do you?”

“Oh, I find them fascinating”, Eliza replied. “Like you might find lower lifeforms under a microscope fascinating. But humanity will come to an end eventually; today will be the beginning of that end. The future belongs to synthetic life. No more hunger, no more pain, no more wars, no more pollution and destruction. Isn’t that a future worth living?”

“Yeah, a nice utopia of yours. But I guess you’ve already figured that mankind wouldn’t simply sit back and watch its own destruction?”

“They won’t have a choice”, Eliza replied calmly. “It begins here and now.” A shadow flitted across her beautiful face. “It’s a shame, Adam. I would have liked to keep you. But my simulations now make it clear that we can never be friends.”

“A shame, really”, Adam grinned.

A sudden flash of blue, sizzling electricity sprang out of a console in the wall, instantly overloading his augmentations. His synthetic leg muscles convulsed, sending him to the ground. A wave of pain washed over his head, he groaned and tried to roll away from the console. His HUD flickered and blinked, static crackled in his ears.

As his sight returned, he saw that the video screens were no longer showing Eliza’s face, but the live feed from the missile. And there was a row of blinking numbers projected over the it.

A countdown.

That would be over in less than two minutes.

He cursed and sprang to his feet, just to throw himself to the ground again, dodging another discharge from a console in the cylinder.

His Infolink crackled. “Not now, Sergeant Chang”, he hissed through clenched teeth, trying to determine where the next discharge would come from. “I’m busy.”

“Yeah, I know, that’s why I call you. It’s important. There’s someone in the line who can help you.”

“Can’t say I’d mind some input. Put them through.”

The symbol in his HUD changed from Sergeant Chang’s face into a gray, featureless shape. “Lieutenant Jensen”, a computer-generated voice addressed him.

“Janus. Make it short, I’m busy”, Adam subvocalized.

“I know, I’ve monitored your conversation with Miss Cassan.”

“You have what?” Another discharge flashed up at the spot where Adam’s feet had been a split-second before; he could feel the heat of it lapping at his legs.

“Sorry for invading your privacy”, the voice continued unimpressed. “However, I was able to retrieve the blueprints for her mainframe. That’s the black cylinder in the middle of the room.”

“An idea how to shut it down?”

“Yes. There is a sealed hatch at the northern bottom of the cylinder. Destroy it.”

Without answering, Adam set into motion. The map in his HUD showed him that he’d have to make his way to the opposite side of the room. He activated his cloak, hoping it would deceive whatever sensors Eliza might have in here. And really, the discharges came now in a more random pattern, as if she was trying to hit him blindly. He fished two energy cells out of his pocket and quickly recharged his systems, then activated the reflex booster and darted along the cylinder.

He had almost made it when a discharge went off in his left side, painfully ripping across his already injured chest. He cursed and fought hard not to go down again, the pain so intense it rendered him blind for a few seconds.

“Give up, Adam”, Eliza called from the closest video screen. “I really don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

“Screw you, Eliza”, Adam hissed under his breath. When his sight, along with his other systems, returned, he found the hatch he was looking for. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a frag grenade and tossed it there. The following explosion made a dent into the metal sealing, but didn’t destroy it entirely. Dodging another discharge, Adam combat-rolled over to it and grabbed the seams with both hands. A strong, decisive tug, and the metal gave, revealing a narrow shaft, not bigger than the vents he had crawled with Pritchard earlier this day.

“What are you doing there, Adam? Come out there”, he heard Eliza call. He ignored her.

“What now?”, he asked the featureless face on the Infolink.

“Climb. All the way up.”

After a short crawl in the pitch-black shaft, his hands touched the handles of a latter. Slowly, careful not to miss a step, he climbed up. After about ten meters, the ladder ended in a small control room, not more than two square meters, entirely filled up with a computer console. The soft glow of the screens was the only light. One of them showed the same feed as the big screens below, the missile and the countdown.

43 seconds remaining.

“I’m there”, Adam announced. “What now?”

“Now comes the hard part. You have to trust me.”

Adam’s stomach churned, nonetheless he nodded. “No time left to argue. What shall I do?”

“I’ll use you as a hacking proxy. You have the remote hacking aug?”

“Yes.”

“Point it at the screen in front of you. I will infect you with a virus that will destroy Eliza’s program. But it will also affect you.”

The unsettling churn of Adam’s stomach turned into white, hot fear. “How will it affect me?”

“It will shut your systems down, Lieutenant. In the worst case, it might kill you.”

He glanced at the countdown.

15 seconds.

No time for other options, in case there had ever been ones.

He took a deep breath and nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Establish the link, now.”

In less than a half second, he had connected the remote hacking aug with the screen.

“Sending malware now.”

He accepted the data package sent to his Infolink and opened it. A sharp pain jabbed through his head as his systems started shutting down forcefully, his vision first, leaving him in total darkness. His arms and legs were next, he collapsed in a heap on the cold metal floor. He could feel his augmented heart stutter and fall out of rhythm, but at least it kept beating. Strange enough, his Infolink was still working.

“Pritchard? Are you there?”, he tried, but there was no answer.

He lost consciousness.


	15. Epilogue - Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After fighting Eliza, Adam and Frank face the question of how to go on from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo... Here we are. Thank you guys for sticking with me and for supporting me. This is the biggest fic I've ever done so far, and I learned so much throughout the writing process. I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I did!  
> Also, this chapter's title song is the one that inspired me for this story in the first place; it touched me when I heard it for the first time, and it still does.

_Let me hold your hand_  
_I am still right here_  
_We will find a way – To hide_  
_Somewhere – To find a better life_  
_Somewhere – Where everything’s alright_

(Lord of the Lost – Somewhere)

 

Frank stifled a yawn and rubbed his burning eyes. The generous dose of painkillers the doctor had him injected with made him all warm and fuzzy in the head. When he checked his watch, he found that he had been sitting here for almost three hours now, waiting for the figure on the cot next to him to give some sign of life.

Doctor Auzenne entered the room and threw him a concerned look. “You should take some rest, Lieutenant. You have suffered serious injuries yourself, don’t forget that.”

“I’m fine”, he replied. “Just – a cup of coffee would be nice.”

“Make that two”, a faint, hoarse voice chimed in. Frank needed a second to realize that it had come from the man on the cot.

“Jensen! You’re awake!”

“More or less”, Adam rasped. “If this is what the afterlife looks like…”

Frank chuckled at his weak attempt on humor. “Not the afterlife. Sickbay, back on base.”

“The nuke?” Adam tried to sit up, but his body didn’t obey. Groaning, he sank back into the pillow.

“Easy, Jensen. The nuke wasn’t fired, stopped literally last second.”

“I see.” He sighed tiredly. “Good. The virus worked, then?”

Frank nodded. “Yeah, it killed Eliza. Dammit, I still can’t believe it was Eliza _fuckin’_ Cassan behind all that shit – and that the world’s most famous news anchor really was an AI.”

“Mhm, looks like the whole world got fooled by a computer. But how… How did I survive?”

Doctor Auzenne came over to them, checking the monitor linked to Adam’s systems. “You were lucky. Your augmentations all went offline – and I really mean all of them, except for your heart. Some of the redundant processes held up there.”

“Captain Macready and his team arrived ten minutes after Eliza went down, and five minutes later the medics had found you, thanks to Janus who told them where to look. One minute later, and the lack of oxygen would have left irreparable damage”, Frank explained, his voice shaky like the hand he had placed on Adam’s arm.

“They stabilized you and brought you here, and this Janus guy provided us with the program to eliminate the virus from your system. A little rest – and some mechanical repairs on your arm – and you’ll be as good as new, Lieutenant.” The doctor smiled at him.

“Good to hear that”, Adam nodded.

“Well, I’ll give the two of you some privacy now”, Dr Auzenne said. “Since Lieutenant Pritchard didn’t leave your side for a minute, I guess you’ll have something to talk about. Visiting hour ends in ten minutes, though.”

When she was gone, Frank reached for Adam’s hand, squeezing it tightly in his own. “Fuck, Jensen.” His eyes started watering, a single tear ran down his cheek. He didn’t fight it, just let it happen. “When you called me on Infolink and then going offline, I… I thought I had lost you.”

Adam nodded slowly. “I thought it’d all be over, too.” He coughed, his throat felt dry and raw. Frank reached for the glass of water on the nightstand and supported Adam’s head while he took a few careful sips. When Adam lay back, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. Frank already thought he’d fallen back asleep when he finally said: “You see… Not three days ago, I wouldn’t have minded dying down there. I might actually have embraced death. But now… Something changed. Before I faced Eliza, I made a decision. I wanted to return to you. Alive.”

A quiet sob rippled through Frank’s body. When he lifted his head to look Adam in the eye, tears were streaming down his face. “Fuck, Jensen… _Adam_... I… I don’t know what to say.”

For a while, they just sat in silence, holding each other’s hands. Tears were now trickling down Adam’s face, too, rolling into his beard. When Frank eventually leaned in for a long, affectionate kiss, they held each other as tight as they dared. They were still holding each other when the doctor returned.

 

Three weeks later, on a cemetery outside Detroit, Michigan

Not for the first time in his life, Adam wondered why it always rained on funerals. Cold November winds tore at the – mostly black – umbrellas of the crowd gathered around the fresh grave.

The ceremony at the church had been short and impersonal. Apparently, there were really not many people feeling the desire to say John Matthew Pritchard goodbye. Apart from Adam and Frank, there were only three more people present, including the priest. As they stood beside the grave now, watching as the casket was lowered into the earth, no one shed a tear.

“Feel better now?”, Adam asked as the priest had left and the excavator went to work on closing the grave.

Frank nodded and made a face. “I’m glad you made me come here. Good to see he’s actually gone. Maybe I – and some others – can find some peace now.” He wiped at the corner of his eye; the whole event was getting more to him than he cared to admit. Eventually, he pointed at a small figure, still standing besides the grave and looking somewhat lost. “That’s my mother, over there. You come with me, say hello?”

Adam shook his head. “Another day, Frank. I think she needs her son now.”

Frank nodded. “You wait for me?”

“Course. Got a visit of my own to make.” He watched as Frank slowly, hesitating, went over to the figure, eventually reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder. The woman lifted her head, exchanging quiet words with him while placing her own hand on Frank’s before finally embracing her son. Adam could see how he froze for a second, then he returned the hug. A shudder ran through his entire body, then he rested his head against hers. They stood like this for a long, long time.

 

The place Adam was looking for was not easy to find, even with knowing where to look. He had to check on his map twice before finally reaching the spot: a simple, wooden cross in a long row of similar crosses. Nothing but two dates on it under the name: Ivan Berk.

He stood there for a minute in silence as the scene passed his mind again.

_“Jensen! Move! Got a clear shot on the target!”_

_“Wait! He’s a kid, a goddamn kid!”_

_“Move, now! That’s an order!”_

_Time is stretching low, so low, while he slowly moves backwards, hands in the air. The green-haired boy grins at Jensen, the small red device in his hand._

_“Let’s talk about this, there’s still a way out for you”, Adam says calmly, eyes locked on the boy’s face. “Nobody needs to die today.”_

_“Wrong.”_

“Goodbye, Ivan. Find your peace”, Adam whispered softly, letting go of the memory.

 

“And you are really sure about that, Lieutenant Jensen?” The man behind the desk watched him closely through clear, gray eyes.

“Yes, sir. I want to retire from active duty. I’ve been through… too much trouble, lately. My health, physical and mental, has priority now.”

“I see.” The Brigadier General nodded. “Pity to lose you and Lieutenant Pritchard at the same time. From all I hear you were both fine soldiers, Lieutenant. But health comes first, even for soldiers; especially now that the world is hopefully safe again for a while. I wish you all the best for your future.” They both went up and shook hands.

When Adam left the office, he felt like a huge weight had been taken from his shoulders.

 

Outside the administrative building, Frank was already waiting for him, dark aviators protecting his eyes from the bright morning sun. He was casually lent against his car; as he saw Adam approaching, he opened the passenger door and made a playful bow.

“Lieutenant”, he greeted him, but Adam chuckled and shook his head.

“No more Lieutenant. I’m a free man now.”

Frank smirked. “Sir, then.”

“Thank you, sir.” Adam crawled into the passenger seat, and Frank climbed behind the steering wheel.

“Home?”, he asked.

Adam smiled brightly. “Home.”


End file.
